


Woman without a Country

by sinnerman



Series: Daughters of the Heavens, Sons of the Sith [2]
Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-13
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 122,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerman/pseuds/sinnerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jedi exile – born a Mandalorian, broken to the Code, shattered by the Force.  Restored by an unsought love she could not escape.  This happens third, but should be read second.  I apologize for the confusion, and blame the Force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Wings

"Ellie.  That guy is here again." The Twi'lek dancer nodded towards the door, as a tall, clean-faced Human male in the early prime of his life.  He wasn't wearing armor, not in this establishment, but the way he walked and held himself showed his Mandalorian upbringing.

The woman that everyone in the house called Ellie sighed, and leaned back against the wall.  She was tall, well-muscled, curved, beneath her cheap and ill-fitting clothes.  Light brown hair, unkempt and disheveled, hung down lankly, almost covering her face.  Wide, slightly slanted green eyes that looked as though she hadn't slept in days.  And yet, she was still beautiful.

She was the bouncer, and it was her job to keep unwanted – and non-paying – guests out of the 'working area' upstairs.  She pulled out a small silver case, and drew out a cigarette, lit it while she watched him walk nervously across the room.  It amused her to think that a man with all his battle experience shrank from talking to a woman he wanted.  It amused her more to wonder how he would react if he really knew who she was.

He saw her smiling, and swallowed nervously.  "Hello, Ellie."

"Tamm." She didn't want to welcome him.  She wanted him to leave.  She took a slow drag on her cigarette.  "I thought you were going home."

He smiled at her words.  She had an odd accent that he could never quite place.  Her Basic was clipped in places, and she used an unnatural rhythm for some of her words, but then her voice would slide back into perfect Standard Basic.  He wondered if she even knew that she was doing it.  He loved listening to her talk, listening to the strange and beautiful rhythms of her speech.  "I won't go home, Ellie.  Not until I can take you with me."

She frowned at the need in his voice, the hunger.  "Don't you already have a wife in your tent?" she said sharply, switching to Mandalorian.

"Did I ever tell you how wonderful it is to listen to you speak our language?" he answered in the same language.

"I am not a Mandalorian," she said harshly.

"None of us are, technically," he smiled.  "Mandalore is no more.  But I still have a clan and a world – what's left of it, anyway – to go back to.  Come with me, Ellie.  Whatever it is you're hiding from –"

She stood up sharply, her eyes blazing.  "You go too far, boy.  What do you know about me?"

He stood his ground, fearless and defiant.  "I told you I loved you, mesh'la, and you did not refuse me.  What did you expect me to do?  Cower and walk away from your silence?"

She gritted her teeth in frustration.  "You endanger not only yourself but those around you.  All for a woman who you will never have."

He shook his head.  "I'm not as foolish as that.  I didn't leave traces when I was searching."

"The fact that you were searching is the danger.  Go, get out of here.  And don't come back this time.  Go home to your wife." She wanted to be angrier, but all she could think of was that he had called her beautiful.  Even here, in this dingy brothel, under the harsh lights, half-washed, half-starved and unkempt from lack of sleep, he thought she was beautiful.

A drunken Twi'lek man staggered up.  "If you're not going up, stop bothering the woman and let other people have their chance." He waved a chit, trying to offer it to her.  "I have an appointment for Room B-262."

"You're early," she said flatly.  "Come back at the next bell."

"Oh?" The Twi'lek blearily looked at his chit.  "You are right, of course!  Come my friend, we will drink until the women are ready for us!" With drunken and irresistible camaraderie, he slipped his arm into the young Mandalorian's and led him to the bar.

The woman smiled to herself, and promised to give Tott'syive a small present later on.  Two more appointments came up.  She checked their chits and the schedule, and let them up.  The evening was going on quite normally until the woman walked in.

She was just over average height, dark hair, dark eyes, scowling and angry.  Unlike the regular guests, she was wearing not only a uniform but weapons.  And since her uniform was an unmistakable shade of azure blue, the proprietor didn't try to stop her.  The woman, in a voice cold with anger, demanded to know where her husband was.

The proprietor looked around nervously, and wisely kept his hands where the Sith officer could see them, and pleaded ignorance.  Since no one was watching the woman casually leaning against the door to the stairs, no one saw her set off the alarm.

"Don't insult my intelligence," hissed the Sith officer.  "I know this is a brothel.  And I know he's in here."

"Perhaps someone could take you upstairs?" offered the proprietor helpfully.  "Ellie, maybe you could take this woman upstairs and help her find what she is looking for?"

The woman they called Ellie nodded, as if she was already bored with the whole proceeding, and put out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray.  "You want to go up?"

The officer stalked over to the door, and gestured that Ellie should precede her.  The door opened automatically, as if it had never been locked, and they walked up the noisy back stairs.

"One moment," snapped the Sith, and pulled out her blaster.

The woman considered, then her fist shot out, catching the Sith on the shoulder and dislocating her shooting arm.  She followed with a fast, hard shot to the Sith's head, and the officer tumbled down the stairs.  "I'm not in the mood to deal with shooting today," she muttered to herself.  She started down the stairs to make sure the officer was just unconscious, and then she heard the screaming.  She ran down to the door, and brought up the secret viewscreen.  A whole troop of Sith were storming the brothel, shooting wildly and killing everyone in sight.

She locked the door, knowing that would buy the girls upstairs a few extra seconds, then ran back up the stairs to her room.  The other girls, typical of women in their position, had already started clearing out at the first alarm.  There was no curiosity about what was happening downstairs.  They threw on their clothes as quickly as they could and ran for the secret exits.

The woman thought, then decided to leave by the window instead of the secret exits.  If this wasn't an accident – if they were really after her, somehow – she didn't want to endanger anyone else any more than she already had.  Her bag was already packed, as she always knew that she might have to run at any time.  She opened the window, and looked around cautiously.  They were on the top part of the city, with three different levels below.  About seven thousand stories, total.  It was very unlikely that anyone else would try to go this way.

She launched herself gracefully from the window, jumping down to an untenanted room in a building two streets away and a level down.  She had practiced this jump before.  With a dirty brown robe wrapped around her, she looked like garbage flying in the wind.  She landed neatly, rolling with the speed of her fall.  She brushed dust from her legs, and calmly walked out to the elevator.  She hailed a shuttle, and headed down to the spaceport.

It was time for her to leave, time to move on.  A foolish boy in love with her, Sith attacks, and the possibility that he had used her face in the search?  Clearly, it was time to go on.  Nothing held her here, or anywhere else.  Not anymore.  She pulled off the robe before she reached the port quarter, and stuffed it into a trashbin for some urchin to find.  It would keep them warm, and at least do some good somewhere.

Besides, she thought wryly, another robe would fall into her lap again.  They always did.

 

The blow made his head sing, but he made no noise of protest.  "Tell me about her," said the Sith interrogator.  "You must know something.  For all the money you spent on her, you'd better know something," he said conversationally.

The young Mandalorian, barely old enough to have fought in the wars, took the blows as if he was a hardened veteran.

"This is stupid," the interrogator complained.  "Why am I asking this dumb kid about some whore?"

"She isn't a whore," the Mandalorian snarled.  His voice was slightly slurred, from the abuse he had taken.

"Go on," rasped an old, old voice.

The Mandalorian fell silent.  He'd already said too much.

"If she isn't a whore," said the voice, so old it was barely recognizable as Human or female, "then what is she?"

The Mandalorian closed his eyes, and began to whisper the words of an old Mandalorian song to himself.

The interrogator raised his hand in fury, but the owner of the voice stopped him.

"Wait." She listened curiously.  "An angel?" she asked.

The Mandalorian flinched, and wished that he had a knife so that he could silence himself.

The door opened, and he heard someone leave the room.  He looked up, and saw that he was alone with the crone.  She was wearing an ugly brown robe, with the hood pulled down over her eyes so that her face was almost completely invisible.

"An angel," she repeated in her cold, rasping voice.

"Leave me alone," he whispered.  "I … I made a mistake.  I've endangered her life.  I can never repair the damage I've done to her, and this is the only way I can make it right."

"Indeed.  Tell me, child, have you any message for your Angel?  I will be seeing her soon.  Don't worry, she will come to no harm."

The young Mandalorian's head was heavy, and he could feel blood dripping down the side of his face.  He couldn't think properly, he just knew that he couldn't say anything that would help them hurt her.  He had to protect her.  "Tell her – tell the Angel – I'm sorry.  Tell her I've done all I can to protect her.  Tell her – please – tell her that she was always beautiful to me."

"Have no fear, child.  I will deliver your message."

The Sith interrogator entered the room again.  "I brought the – wait, he's dead.  What did you do?  What are you doing?" He screamed horribly as he died, and it was the last sound the young Mandalorian heard before he faded away.


	2. Pinfeathers

"Are you ever planning to run your own house someday?"

The Twi'lek looked curiously at his Human companion.  "Possibly.  Why do you ask?"

The Human man, owner of the shuttered brothel across the street, pointed at the old woman slowly approaching the patio where the two men were drinking.  "Learn to recognize that walk.  That's a woman searching for her daughter.  She's not sure if she's in the right place, and she doesn't really want to find her here.  She wants to believe it isn't true, but she knows, deep down inside, that her daughter is working here." The Human finished his drink and walked over to talk to the old woman.  "Hello, ma'am," he said as politely as he could.  Years of shouting across a crowded bar had roughened his voice, but he had never lost his innate respect for mothers.

"I'm not certain if this is the right place," said the old woman.  Her voice was old, impossibly old, and seemed to carry the weight of centuries in it.  She didn't sound uncertain.

The man shuffled his feet nervously.  He hated this part.  But he owed money, and they owed him money, and everyone had to live somehow.  "It probably is, ma'am.  Thing is, the house is closed at the moment.  We had a bit of trouble last night, and the enforcers rounded up all the girls in the house and locked them up for a few days.  Messy suicide.  Always makes the enforcers twitchy."

"Suicide?" said the old woman, and for a second, the man thought she smiled.  "Did they really get all of them?"

"Well, all except one," grinned the man.  "And that's probably the one they were after.  Tall girl, with green eyes.  A little weird.  She didn't do regular work, like the other girls, but she always came up with her payments somehow.  And she had a thing for wearing boring clothes.  You know, she had the same brown robe as you, now that I think of it." He had no idea why he felt the need to talk so much to this old woman, or why he was so certain that she was looking for Ellie.

"Ellie.  Such a common name," the old woman said disapprovingly.

The Human man blinked in shock.  He didn't remember saying the name aloud.  He wondered if he should tell the old woman about overhearing Ellie making arrangements at the spaceport to hitch a ride on the Republic cruiser that was currently docked in Bay 53.  He shook his head.  What an oddly specific thing to suddenly think of.  Almost as odd as suddenly thinking of the young officer who had killed himself when Ellie had refused to leave with him.

"So she has run off again," the old woman sighed.  "Thank you for your assistance, young man." She handed him a credit chit, then calmly walked away.

It took him a moment to process that she was gone, and look at the amount on chit.  "What the....  I didn't even tell her anything.  Did I?"

 

She knew she was asleep, but she could sense...  something.  Someone hovering around the edge of her mind, questioning, curious.  She tried to force herself to wake up, but couldn't get past the barrier of sleep.  Had she been drugged?  Or had she hit her body's limit for staying awake again?

Since she couldn't wake up, she decided to amuse herself with her dreams.

"What?" she heard the intruder in her mind, felt his shock, and giggled as she hid behind a tree.  He turned, still not sure how he had been drawn back to the form of a child, or why he was in a lush garden.  "Who's there?  Show yourself!"

She laughed.  He was still trying to be fierce and cruel, but it just sounded ridiculous coming from a little boy's body.  This was her dream, after all.  She turned and ran, dodging from tree to tree, knowing that he would give chase.  She let him get closer and closer, then she suddenly turned, raced down the hill, and jumped across the river, leaving him behind.  She turned and laughed at him again, knowing that the sunlight on the water would keep him from seeing her features.  Just wild, dark yellow hair in a halo around her face, a sparkle of green eyes, and a mischievous smile before she disappeared into the woods again.

His presence faded from her mind.  She sighed.  No one ever wanted to cross the river and keep playing.  She wondered who he was, and where he had come from.  He was a human, and he hadn't felt like a natural telepath, so he was probably a Jedi.  A fallen one, most likely.  She wondered what he was doing here, then realized she didn't have any idea where she actually was.  The last thing she remembered was having a drink in her room, and feeling somewhat sorry for herself.

"Awaken." The voice in her head now was different.  Old, imperative, female.  A slight touch of motherly concern.

Her body tried to respond to the command, failed at first.  Suddenly it struck her that if she continued to sleep, to be still, she would die.  In a panic, she forced herself to move, and staggered out of the kolto tank.  She fell to her knees, and collapsed on the floor.  Behind her, she could hear the computers beeping patiently and steadily, and recognized the sounds of a reboot process.

She turned her head, and watched the tank flush itself and refill with fresh kolto.  There were four other tanks in the medical bay, all filled with injured men in ugly greenish-brown uniforms.  She tried to rouse them, but they were all dead.  Someone had drugged – poisoned – the tanks.  She looked over the dead men.  None of them looked like a grown up version of the boy in her dream.  They were all the kind of men who dreamed of cheap whores and strong liquor, of making it rich and escaping their dead end lives.

There was no doctor, no medical droid, no one else in the facility at all.  She staggered out of the medical bay, and saw a computer console in one of the nearby rooms.  She walked to it, and pulled up the logs, confirming her hunch that someone had poisoned the tanks.  She had only survived because of what she had once been.  She closed her eyes for a moment, regretting the deaths of the other men.  Obviously, someone was after her.  As usual, she had brought death in her wake and escaped unharmed.  She shook herself, and tried to find out what was going on or where she was.  Suddenly, it struck her that she hadn't seen her bag anywhere.  She frantically searched the nearby containers, but there was no sign of her bag.

"Well, of all the – " she indulged in some bad-natured swearing for a few minutes.  Most women would have been upset at being forced to wander around in their underwear.  She was upset because she wanted a cigarette.

She walked into the morgue, and looked curiously at the old woman.  She was wearing plain, familiar brown robes.  She checked the other body, and as she did so, the old woman rose to her feet, gently adjusting the hood so that her eyes were covered.

"Find what you were looking for amongst the dead?" The voice was eerily familiar.

"You were the voice I heard in the tank."

"Yes," said the old woman with a soft smile.  "I must have reached out, unconsciously.  I have been at rest for too long, and could not rouse myself.  Your mind – was listening most carefully.  Have you been trained for such things?"

"I have some small skill with telepathy," she answered grudgingly.  "You can touch minds and feign death.  Who – what are you?" She knew the answer as she asked the question, just as she knew the old woman would not tell her.  They were being cordially and mutually dishonest with each other.

"I am Kreia, and I rescued you just as you rescued me.  You have my thanks.  Tell me – do you recall what happened?"

"I was onboard the Republic ship, the Harbinger.  The last thing I remember is having a drink in my cabin, and I think an alarm went off." The memory was vague and unclear.

"Your ship was attacked," Kreia explained.  "You were the only survivor that I found.  No doubt, the result of your Jedi training."

She stiffened.  "I am no longer a member of the Jedi Order."

Kreia smiled patiently.  "You move like a Jedi.  Your stance, the way you watch, everything about you speaks to your training.  And yet, you seem to bear a heavy burden."

"My time with the Order is over.  Our history together – has not been the best." Her accent, usually so well controlled, slipped out, and she saw the old woman smile in amusement.

"Very well, then.  Let us leave the past to the past, and focus on the present."

She nodded in agreement.  "What is this place?"

Kreia shrugged.  "I do not know.  I was unconscious when we arrived.  Perhaps some exploration will reveal the answers we seek.  The ship we arrived in will still be here.  We should recover it and leave before our hunters find our trail again."

"Our trail?"

"Our fates are now intertwined, young one.  This place – and all within it – are dead.  What killed them?  In our current state, we would be no match for anyone.  I suspect that we will have to leave this place as swiftly as we arrived."

"That can't be," she said in horror.  "They can't all be dead.  Someone has to still be alive.  I'm going to go look for them, see if I can find out what happened here."

Kreia smiled again, with wicked humor.  "While you are searching, you may want to keep an eye out for some clothes… if only for proper first impressions."

She shrugged.  "You didn't happen to get my bag when you rescued me from the Harbinger, did you?"

Kreia shook her head.  "I'm afraid not.  You were wounded, and I had no time to search for your clothes."

She started at that.  She had been fully dressed in her room.  Something had happened, then, between the time the attack started and when Kreia had found her.  Being mostly-naked didn't bother her as much as not knowing where her bag was.  She desperately wanted a cigarette, and her head ached abominably.  The old woman sank to the ground.  "Are you all right?"

Kreia nodded.  "I am not as young as you," she smiled wryly.  "Bouncing back from the brink of death is no longer as easy as it once was."

"I'm going to search.  I'll come back to check on you and make sure you're all right."

"Of course.  Before you go –"

She turned back to the old woman, questioning.

"What is your name?" Kreia asked pointedly.

She blushed.  It had been a long time since that mattered.  This woman – no doubt, a Jedi – would know who she was, who she had been.  There was no point in pretending otherwise.  "My name is Ludmilla Sîvoš," she said softly.  "I am the Jedi Exile."


	3. Tarnished Halo

Ludmilla wasn't prepared for the look on his face, because she had forgotten what she was wearing.  Or rather, that she wasn't wearing anything besides her underwear.

In the stories her mother had told her as a child, the handsome Prince was always grateful to be rescued from imprisonment.  They were rarely sarcastic, leering jerks who had been locked up for unspecified security violations.  She looked at him curiously.  He was certainly handsome, however.  He had fine, narrow features; slim hips and slender hands.  Clearly not a descendant of the working class.

She also realized that he bore no resemblance to the boy in her dream.  Was there still one more person alive on the station, somewhere?  Or had someone reached her mind from a nearby starship?

"Who are you?"

He introduced himself, tearing his eyes away from the clearly outlined shape of her form with some difficulty.  "Atton...  Atton Rand.  What's your name?"

She didn't answer him at first, and walked around the force cage, looking him over.  "Rand?  You're a Corellian.  And that's a Corellian Bloodstripe." He may not have been a prince, but he was at least a hero.

Atton flushed.  "Yes, I'm from Corellia.  Yes, it's a Bloodstripe.  No, I'm not going to tell you about it.  It's ancient history, let's move on to the present.  You know, the present where you stop walking around aimlessly and let me out."

"What happened here?  Do you know?"

"There was a Jedi.  You know how that goes, one Jedi shows up, and the Republic goes nutty and starts crawling all over you.  It gets better, though.  See, the Jedi was sick or something, and some of the idiot miners here started thinking about collecting that gigantic bounty on Jedi that the Exchange posted."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, but let him continue.

"So, one group wants to turn the Jedi in for the money, the other group calls the Republic for help, there's a big explosion, and then I'm sitting here all alone for a long time.  Then you showed up, in your underwear, and things got a lot better," he grinned.

"There's a bounty on captured Jedi?" she asked slowly.  "Why?"

Atton shrugged.  "Not a clue.  I'm sure the bounty is pretty high, though.  It's the Exchange, and they don't mess around.  Not too many Jedi left, so a sick one that can't fight back would be a pretty sweet deal."

"What do you mean, there aren't many Jedi left?" She felt a horrible chill run down her spine.

"Well, most of the ones that didn't get knocked off in the Jedi Civil War hung up their lightsabers and went home.  Word is, there isn't even a Jedi Council anymore." Atton shrugged, careless of the implications of his words.  "But, who really knows what the Jedi do anyway."

"Jedi Civil War?" she repeated in shock.  She had heard rumors of a war, but… a war between Jedi?  "What?"

"Where have you been?" he asked curiously.  "How did you miss the whole Malak against Revan, all the Jedi picking sides, and laying waste to the entire galaxy thing?"

She flinched at his words.  "Malak fighting Revan?  I… I've been away, since the Mandalorian Wars." Her head was spinning.  "Tell me… tell me what happened."

"You're not going to let me out until I do, are you?  Fine.  Revan and Malak turned on each other, with all their little pet Jedi on their side following them.  Sith, Jedi, whatever," he said hurriedly, at the look on her face.  "What's the difference, really?"

"I – I had heard that Revan saved the Republic.  That she had returned to the Jedi Order, and had killed the Sith leader in a final, unavoidable confrontation."

"Well, I wasn't there, thankfully.  That story sounds great for the masses, but come on.  This is Revan we're talking about here.  You've heard stories of her battles in the Mandalorian Wars, right?  That woman didn't spare anybody.  Unavoidable, my ass.  She probably killed Malak because he was cheating on her or something."

She looked away, hoping her face wasn't showing the wild emotions in her soul.  Malak, a Sith Lord?  Malak fighting Revan?  The two lovebirds turned to bitter enemies?

"Seriously, Dark Jedi are bad enough.  Sith, whatever you want to call them.  But when a woman falls to the Dark Side, you'd better space yourself before you fall into their hands.  Uh, no offense or anything."

"None taken," she said quietly.  "I have some other questions for you."

Atton sighed.  "Okay, I'm not going to pretend I'm not secretly enjoying the half-naked interrogation, but come on!  Are you going to let me out of here or what?  Wait.  Wait a second.  You're that Jedi everyone was talking about, aren't you?  That's why you have no idea what's going on."

She shook her head.  "I am not a Jedi.  Not anymore, anyway."

"Right.  But you're still the one they were talking about, aren't you?  Where is everybody?"

"I don't know," she admitted.  "The facility seems deserted, and the mining droids have gone crazy.  The emergency lockdown has shut off access to the hangars, too."

"What?  The miners can't all be gone.  Can they?  Look, will you let me out of here already?  I can help you.  I've gotten out of bad situations countless times.  This isn't a military installation.  I'm sure I can get around the security here."

"You do seem like the type that doesn't deal well with authority," she smiled.  "Here, let me open that.  Sorry I took so long, I was just distracted by all the catching up." She turned off the power to the cage, and he stepped out.

"Oh, I can understand distractions.  Trust me." He grinned at her.

She tried to glare at him, but couldn't quite make herself sound angry.  "My face is up here."

"Oh, right.  My bad.  Come on, let's see what we can do with the console about getting out of here.  You know, you still haven't told me your name."

"The command console is over here." She walked out of the holding cell area back to the main console.

"Fine," Atton followed her out.  "I'll just keep calling you 'Naked Jedi Chick' in my mind.  I have no problem with that." Atton started working with the console.

"I am not a Jedi," she protested again, but he ignored her.  She watched in fascination as he worked.  Her mind was still reeling from his earlier revelations, and she found comfort in watching his graceful hands dance over the touchscreen.

Atton snarled at the console, and said a few choice phrases in Corellian.  "Great."

"What is it?"

"We're trapped," he explained.  "This lockdown – someone is trying really hard to keep you here, Naked Jedi Chick."

She ignored him.  "Well, the communications are still working, right?  Let's see if we can reach anyone."

"Help yourself." Atton stepped back, and let her bend over the console.

Ludmilla brought up the comm system, and tried the various departments.  Not until she hailed the Hangar Bay did she get a response, in the form of a series of frantic clicks and beeps.  "A utility droid!  Hello?  Can you read me?"

The camera flickered to life, showing a battered little utility droid.

"Oh, the poor thing," she murmured.  "Do a diagnostic," she commanded, "and let me know how you are."

"You do know that it's just a droid, right?" muttered Atton under his breath.

Ludmilla didn't bother answering him, and started giving the little droid instructions.

Atton sighed, and watched the perfect curves of her lithe, muscular body as she spoke into the console.  Jedi were all strange, but this one was really strange.  For one thing, most Jedi preferred to keep themselves wrapped in those shapeless cloaks.  This was the first time he'd ever met a Jedi exhibitionist.  It kind of took all the fun out of undressing her with his eyes.

She was tall, a bit taller than he was, and built on a generous scale, all muscles and curves, and obviously much stronger.  She moved like a warrior, graceful and smooth, and carried the unsheathed sword in her hand comfortably, as if it belonged there.  He wondered what had happened to her lightsaber, the traditional weapon of the Jedi.

She continued working out a plan with the little utility droid, talking to it as if it had feelings and treating it with respect.  He wondered again who she really was, and where she had been during the Civil War.  But there was no question what side she would have fought on.

"Well, now we just have to wait.  I hope he'll be okay." She sat down at the console, and idly spun the chair in a circle.

"Right, waiting.  So," said Atton hopefully, "how long have you been a Jedi?  That life must suck, I mean, no family, no husband…."

She raised an eyebrow.  "No worse than putting up with your false sympathy while you're staring at my boobs."

"Hey, I didn't – did you just say boobs?"

She grinned, but a beeping from the console interrupted their flirting, and they both leaned over to check the readout.

"Hey, the little rust bucket came through.  Good thing I didn't offer you that bet, I would have lost my pants."

She rolled her eyes, and Atton laughed.  "But why didn't he contact me?" she wondered.  "Is the comm not working?"

Atton checked the console.  "The connection is still live, maybe it just forgot to call you back."

She shook her head.  "No, he wouldn't do that.  Something must be wrong."

"Look, if the turbolifts are working again, we can just head right down to the hangar."

"The turbolifts were locked down, I have to release them manually.  I told him to –"

"Wait." Atton stared at her.  "No, you're not going down there!  Are you nuts?  The explosions must have ripped the sublevel of this place apart.  You'll be killed, or –"

"Someone has to go," she said patiently, "and naked or not, I'm still the best chance we have.  I'll be fine."

Atton tried to think of a good argument to stop her, but couldn't.  "You're out of your mind, but in a good way.  Okay, fine, I'll stay up here and try to keep an eye on things.  Maybe I can get some more control working or something.  Just, you know, be careful."

She smiled at him.  "You're actually looking at my face."

"What?  I, uh… look, I just don't want to be stuck here trying to escape this mess by myself.  It's not like I care or anything." Inwardly, Atton cursed himself for letting his feelings show.  She was a Jedi, like all the rest of them, and not someone he needed to get involved with.  "Look, just take the commlink, and I'll do what I can from up here.  The sooner we get off this rock, the better."

She left him with the command console, and ran off to the now open shaft.  The connection was open, and she made her way down to the mining tunnels.

The commlink beeped.  "Can you read me?"

She smiled to herself at the sound of his voice, then tried to shake it off.  She couldn't let herself become involved with anyone, not now.  Not even a handsome Prince with a voice like silk.  No attachments.  Maybe they would all get out of here alive, and she could leave him somewhere so they would never meet again.  "I'm here, you're very staticy though."

"There's a lot of interference where you are, and a lot of mining droid chatter.  Watch yourself down there." He described the path through the tunnels ahead to her.  "Assuming the passages haven't collapsed, of course.  Oh, hey, there should be some emergency supplies in the room right ahead.  Maybe there will be something in there you can use."

"I'll check it out." She ran up to the door, and opened the plasteel container.  It was full of supplies, including something she really hadn't expected to see in the tunnels.

"Did you find the emergency supplies?"

"Yes, and it looks like there are some clothes in here, too!"

"Dammit!  Uhh… I mean, that's great.  You running around half-naked was getting kind of distracting.  To the droids!" Atton laughed nervously.  "Okay, now you really do have to tell me your name, though."

Ludmilla laughed.  "I rather liked being the naked chick." She pulled on the mining uniform, and straightened her hair.  "My name is Ludmilla Sîvoš."

"There, was that so hard?  Pleased to meet you, Ludmilla.  Hrm, I don't recognize any world markers in your name.  Where are you from?"

"You really don't know who I am?" she asked, a little stunned.

"Sorry, I failed my Jedi History class.  Not a clue."

"Well, then let's just keep it that way.  I'm not from anywhere," she said shortly.  Her accent slipped again, clipping her words strangely, with an oddly musical rhythm.

"Yeah, and you're not a Jedi, either, or so you keep saying.  And now you don't have a homeworld.  What are you, some kind of – "  He stopped suddenly, a whisper of memory floating back to him.

"Anyway, I'll be going now.  Let me know if you find out anything important." Her voice was cold now, and she knew she didn't have to worry about him falling in love with her anymore.  No one did, not once they knew.  She closed the commlink and headed into the tunnels

Atton sank back in the chair, staring at the darkened screen in shock.  The Exile.  The Jedi General.  Revan's War Beast.  That was her.  He'd never imagined that she would be so… nice.  He realized that she had been completely honest with him, which was more than he had done.  She wasn't a Jedi, not anymore.  But then, she still moved like one, thought like one, fought like one.  What was she?


	4. Wrath, pt.1

Ludmilla led them through the mining facility to the Harbinger, to use it as a shortcut to reach the sealed bay where Kreia's ship was docked.  She could feel Atton's eyes on her, feel his doubt of her, his distaste for Kreia.  She didn't quite understand his hatred of Jedi, and wondered how much she had missed in the Jedi Civil War.  How many had fallen to the Dark Side?  How much damage had Revan and Malak caused?

She still couldn't quite reconcile the image of Revan's handsome and loyal lover with the idea of a Sith Lord.  Malak?  Brave and noble Malak?  It was easier to imagine Revan falling, and she realized that if Revan had truly fallen to the Dark Side, then Malak would have followed her.  He would have followed her anywhere.  But to fight her?  Malak, fighting Revan?  That was the part she couldn't deal with.

The door opened, and without thinking, she brought her blade up to block an invisible attack.  The stealth field flickered, and revealed a Sith Assassin.

For a while, Atton hadn't been quite sure if Ludmilla had really been telling the truth.  Her prowess in battle was remarkable.  Even without her Jedi powers, she had easily handled the droids.  But now, fighting the Sith-trained assassins, he realized that she was, indeed, all that the stories said of her.  She changed, when combat started.  Even through their stealth fields, the assassins never surprised her.  She seemed to know where they were before they did.  She moved so fast that her vibroblade sang as she fought, her motions swift and strong and graceful.  She hit hard, too, striking critical points more often than not.  Atton grinned when he saw her follow up a block with a swift kick to the groin of an assassin.

"You didn't learn that from the Jedi," he grinned.

Ludmilla flashed him a bright smile, and smoothly ducked so that he could fire his blaster over her.  "You're a good shot," she observed.

"Thanks," said Atton, "and that's despite the distracting view from back here."

"Perhaps we should save the mutual adoration for later?" said Kreia acidly.  "If there is a later."

Atton was tired of the old woman's needling voice already.  He just wanted to get out of here, and settle down with a few bottles of whiskey in a bar somewhere until he forgot all about the slightly slanted green eyes and graceful curves of the Jedi Exile.

"Don't worry, we'll make it," said Ludmilla calmly, and her confidence communicated itself to her companions.  Having faith in her was as easy as breathing.

They ran down another hallway, and Ludmilla stopped.  "This was my room," she said suddenly, and unlocked the door.  She walked in, and looked around.  Her bag wasn't here.  She checked the footlocker, and found a few minor personal things.  She swore angrily.

"What is it?" asked Kreia.

"My cigarettes are gone!"

Both Kreia and Atton stared at her in disbelief.

"You smoke?" asked Atton.

"No, because some chakaar stole my bag!" She snarled in frustration and stood up.

"It is a bad habit, and a crutch," said Kreia disapprovingly.  "You're better off without them."

"Well, I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?" she snapped.  The disappointment was terrible.  The antique silver case and matching lighter, the collection that she had painstakingly built up over the years, all gone.  The urge, impossible to satisfy, was stronger than ever, and she was glad that there were legitimate targets for her frustration.  "Let's go."

They fought their way to the engine deck, slowly unfolding the story of what had happened onboard.  Just as they approached the first door to the engine room, both Kreia and Ludmilla stopped.  Something was on the ship with them, the same thing that was behind the Sith Assassins and the massacre of everyone on the Harbinger.

"You feel it, don't you?  You sense his presence." Kreia frowned, and the door slid open.  At the end of the hall, there was a man.  At least, it looked like a man, in that it had the shape of one, had arms and legs, and a head.

Ludmilla realized that this was the thing that the logs in the med lab had mentioned.  He looked – how was he moving?  Was he even alive?  One eye-socket was nothing more than a white shell.  The surface of his skin crawled with corruption, cracked and ravaged.  His face was set in a permanent grimace of pain.  Darkness and agony seemed to seep from him, and he stood there, watching them, without saying a word.  She stared at him, but he didn't seem to see her.  He was focused on Kreia.

Kreia stepped forward.  "Go, this battle is mine." Her wrinkled face curved in a sudden smile, sensing Ludmilla's reaction.  "I am not entirely defenseless, child.  His power blinds him, and he cannot kill where he cannot see.  Go, I shall be along shortly.  Go!"

The command was imperative, demanding, and Atton found himself moving away in the direction that Kreia had indicated before he realized that Ludmilla wasn't following.  She was still staring at the Sith Lord.

"What are you doing?" Atton demanded.  "She's buying us time to get out of here, let's go!"

"I'm trying to see the color of his eyes." Ludmilla's voice sounded strange, as if she had just woken up from a long sleep.

"Eyes?  He only has one!  Come on!" He pulled her out of the Sith Lord's sight.  The Sith Lord didn't seem to have noticed them at all, and was staring at Kreia with an angry frown.  "Typical stupid old Jedi," snarled Atton as Kreia sealed the door, locking herself in with the Sith Lord.

"What?"

"Wake up!" he shook Ludmilla a little, trying to break her free of whatever spell the Sith Lord had put on her.

"Stop that!" she pulled away from him.  "What… oh.  Oh, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me." She put her hand up to her head.  "Who… what was that?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb," said Atton grimly, "and guess, from the scars and the glowing red wounds, and the aura of death, that it's a Sith Lord."

"And Kreia –"

"Yeah, Kreia.  Now let's go." Atton didn't want to think about it.  He didn't want to like the old Jedi, or feel grateful to her for saving them.  He didn't want to like any Jedi.  "How are we going to get off this hellhole and get to your ship?"

Ludmilla looked around quickly.  "Here." She pointed at the line on the map that connected the Harbinger back to the mining facility.  "We can go through here."

"What, there?  Through the fuel lines?  Are you nuts?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Well, a few minutes ago I would have suggested surrendering, but now, no.  No, I don't.  Let's go."

They ran down through the engine room, and entered through the fuel valve.  As they climbed down into the pipes, suddenly Ludmilla froze, her face white with agonizing pain.  She clutched her hand to her body, and sank to her knees, gasping, almost falling down the last rung of the ladder.

"What?  What is it?  What's wrong?" Atton knelt beside her, cradling her in his arms.

"Kreia," she gasped, "she's been hurt.  Wounded.  I can feel it… everything she feels… the pain…." Ludmilla moaned, and buried her face in Atton's chest, instinctively seeking comfort.

"Is she dead?"

Ludmilla shook her head.  "No, the Sith left her… he's coming after us.  After me."

Atton tightened his arms around her.  "Can you walk?"

She nodded.  The sensation was already fading.  Somehow, by sharing Kreia's pain, she had helped the older woman survive.  "We… we should hurry."

Atton helped her to her feet.  For someone who was trying not to get involved with a Jedi, he knew he was doing a terrible job.  But who would have thought someone so dangerous would be so vulnerable?  Or so beautiful?  He watched her wipe away tears, the marks of her shared suffering, and realized that he'd never seen a Jedi cry before.

"I'm ready," she whispered.  "Let's go."

They continued through the fuel lines, hurrying.

"Do you hear that?" Atton asked.

There was another questioning beep.

"That's him!  The droid who helped us earlier!" Ludmilla ran around the corner, and stopped just short of hugging the little droid.  "Are you okay?  You've been shot!" She fussed over the little droid, who responded with a quick series of clicks and beeps.

"Seriously, it's a droid.  It's not alive," Atton grumbled.

The droid, an unusually small T3 unit, beeped at him.

"Oh, I understand you just fine," snapped Atton.  "I just don't care.  I don't believe in peris, either."

The T3 unit burbled at him, and then led them down to the storage area so they could access the hangar.

Ludmilla just laughed, oddly happy to have found an unexpected friend at just the right time.

"What's a chakaar?" he asked suddenly, but didn't stop walking down the tunnel.  "It's Mandalorian, right?"

Ludmilla smiled, but kept her eyes on the tunnel ahead.  "It means 'grave robber.' It's a terrible insult, to a Mandalorian, anyway."

"Good to know.  Are you a Mandalorian?  Or rather, were you?"

She sighed.  "I am not a Mandalorian."

"Is that the hangar?" said Atton, quickly changing the subject.  "Finally.  Hey, the door is still sealed."

T3 beeped.  "T3 will slice the computer and get the door open." The little utility droid got them inside, and they ran up to the Ebon Hawk at last.  The ship had been repaired, but still looked battered.  However, the diagnostics reported that it was spaceworthy and that was enough.  The gangplank slowly descended, and Atton started to run up, eager to enter the ship.

Suddenly, Ludmilla grabbed him, threw him back.  Atton recovered neatly, and didn't fall, twisted in time to see her crossing blades with two men in Sith armor.  T3 squeaked, and began shooting electrical blasts to stun the troopers.

"And now there are Sith Assault Troopers on the ship.  You know, this day has gone downhill ever since you put clothes on."

Unable to stop herself, Ludmilla burst out laughing, but her blade never stopped moving.  Atton and T3 stood behind her, shooting at the troopers inside the ship.

"How many of them are there?" Atton snarled, and the droid beeped in response.

"Well, there are only twenty now," laughed Ludmilla as she cut down another trooper.

"Nineteen," said Atton as he shot one down, and T3 clicked and zapped another one.  "Hey, this isn't a competition," said Atton.  "Sixteen.  We're all in this together."

"Clear out the bridge," Ludmilla commanded.  "I'll take the cargo bay.  T3, check the garage."

"You know, I almost feel sorry for these guys," mused Atton.  "Almost." T3 electrocuted another trooper, and together they eliminated the remaining intruders.  Atton headed for the bridge, and T3 went to check the rest of the ship while Ludmilla went to the medical bay to patch up a cut on her arm.  T3 checked the garage, the cargo bay, and had just headed for the main crew quarters, then burst into loud squeals and came whizzing back to her.

"What?" Ludmilla ran to the cabin, where Kreia was slowly lowering herself to sit on a bunk.  "Kreia!  How did you get here?"

"There's no time, tell that fool to get out of here.  Quickly." Her voice was rough with pain, but she waved Ludmilla away.  "Quickly!"

Ludmilla ran to the bridge.  "Atton!  Get us out of here!"

"Right," Atton fired up the engines, and the Ebon Hawk stirred to life.  Ludmilla watched in fascination as his hands flew over the panels, and the ship began to rise.  "We are out of here!" he exclaimed, and the Ebon Hawk shot out into space.  "Okay, let's see what Telos IV is like this time of year."

"Telos?  Why Telos?" Ludmilla's heart sank in her chest.  "Telos is an Outer Rim world.  I'm not supposed to go there."

"Well, we don't have a choice.  That's the only destination that we got from the Harbinger's navcomputer."

Ludmilla blinked.  "The Harbinger."

"Yeah, the ship we just left, remember?"

"Yes, I remember.  The engine was dead, but the weapon systems were working just fine.  We need to go faster."

Atton turned and stared at her.  "We're flying through what is effectively an explosive minefield.  Shooting at us would be suicide."

"More fast flying, less doubting the Sith Lord's desire to kill us."

Atton turned back and started touching more buttons.  "Go tell that droid to do whatever he can with the hyperdrive and the engines.  We need all the speed we can get."

Ludmilla ran back to the engine room, where T3 was already frantically working with the engines.  "Thanks, T3!  I should have known you'd already be on it.  I'll let you work," she smiled, and ran back to the bridge.  T3 whistled happily as she left, and continued working.

Atton brought up the scanner.  "It's only half working, but at least we can check."

"There." Ludmilla pointed to the Harbinger, which had just disconnected from the mining facility.  "He's out of his mind.  Is he just going to let it drift?"

The cruiser, disconnected from the dock, turned slowly so that its guns were facing the Ebon Hawk.

"He's using the Force to move the ship," said Ludmilla in disbelief.

"And he really is going to fire on us.  Starting evasive maneuvers!" The Harbinger fired, hitting a nearby asteroid instead of the Ebon Hawk due to Atton's masterful skill.  The asteroid exploded, taking four more asteroids with it, causing a chain of shockwaves that rattled the ship.  "Great, either he hits us and we die, or he keeps missing us, and we die."

"Just keep our distance!  Is there any way we can jump to hyperspace?"

"Not until we clear the asteroid field," said Atton grimly.  "This isn't looking good." Atton continued dodging, trying to get the Ebon Hawk out of range of the Harbinger's guns.

Ludmilla watched the Harbinger's fire pattern.  "He can't see us.  He's trying to aim with the Force."

"Aim with the Force?  So, what, he's sensing us?  How does that work?"

"Badly," Ludmilla grinned.  "The greater the distance, the less accurate it gets."

"He's stopped firing!  Now's our chance." Atton concentrated on escaping the asteroid field while there was a pause in the firing.  The Harbinger rose slightly, trying to get closer, and then fired again.  Fast as thought, Atton moved the Ebon Hawk and the blast hit a large asteroid behind them.  "Oh, that's not good." He pushed the Ebon Hawk as fast as it would go.  The ship shuddered slightly around them, and T3 squeaked in protest.  Behind them, the chain of explosions continued until the inevitable happened: an asteroid too close to Peragus itself exploded, and the entire planet detonated with unimaginable force.  The Ebon Hawk hit hyperspace just in time, riding the first shockwave.  "Wow.  We just killed a planet.  Is it okay if I forget to mention that to my next employment prospect?"

Kreia staggered into the bridge.  "I still cannot decide what is faster, your skill at piloting or your idiot tongue.  The Sith Lord was seeking you, Jedi." Kreia sat down in the co-pilot's seat.  Ludmilla leaned against the wall, in shocked silence.

Atton turned around to face her again.  "Why?  Why are they after her?"

"Because she is the last of the Jedi.  Once they have destroyed her, they have won."

"I am not a Jedi," she said shakily.  "They're wrong.  And it can't be!  I can't be the last!  What about the Council?  How can everyone in the Order be dead?"

"They think you are a Jedi," said Kreia grimly, "and so they hunt you.  Not all the Jedi are dead, child.  It is true, many died in the Mandalorian Wars.  Teachers left their students to go fight, students abandoned their training.  Then the Force turned on itself, and Jedi turned against Jedi."

"Or as the rest of us like to call it, the most destructive break-up in history."

"Be silent, fool," Kreia hissed.

"His name is Atton," said Ludmilla wearily.  "Tell me about the war."

Atton looked at her gratefully, but kept his tongue.

Kreia pointedly turned away from him, facing Ludmilla directly.  "Some turned their backs on the Order after the Mandalorian wars, but more fell to the Dark Side under Revan's command, and she began a new Sith empire."

"I knew about the Sith empire, that reached out even to the Outer Rim.  But I never realized that Revan..."

"Revan ruled the Sith for years, until Malak finally rose to challenge her.  It is the way of the Sith.  He failed at first, then struck again, wounding her to death.  She was saved by the Jedi Council, and returned to the Light, defeating Malak once and for all.  The Sith empire crumbled into a collection of petty warlords, but the damage was already done.  It was the death blow to the Order, and less than a hundred Jedi remained.  One by one, they have been turned or hunted down.  Now, all that is left is...  you."

"But if the Sith are gone, then who...  what was that?  That you fought?"

Kreia sighed.  "Revan and Malak went to the Unknown Regions, and returned...  changed.  They brought back new Sith teachings, and in their meddlings, they have awakened Dark powers that seek to destroy the Jedi completely.  This threat is greater, more damaging, than anything you have yet faced," she said warningly.  "It may not even be possible to win this battle."

Ludmilla looked at her, but Kreia's face was hidden by her deep hood.  "All battles can be won."

"You sound like a Mandalorian," muttered Atton under his breath, and both women ignored him.

"Can they, child?  Can you win alone?  You will need weapons, allies...  a teacher.  All of which you must be willing to risk and lose.  You fought in the Mandalorian wars.  You lost everything.  Will you survive if you must sacrifice it all a second time?"

"I'm lost," said Atton quietly.  "What is she talking about?"

Ludmilla didn't answer.

"Think carefully," warned Kreia.  "If you start down this path, there will be no retreat."

"They've already forced me on this path," said Ludmilla bitterly.  "After seeing what they're willing to do, how can I turn away?  If I try to hide, they'll just kill me, and then everyone else.  And if no one stands against them, everyone will die anyway."

"So you will sacrifice yourself for an Order that rejected you?  That you no longer believe in?"

Ludmilla stared at the floor of the bridge.  "I make my sacrifices for my own reasons.  Don't try to guess my motives."

"Still lost," muttered Atton.

"Enough.  My wound pains me," said Kreia, rising from the chair.  "If you have more questions, I will be in my quarters.  We can speak more there, without the risk of being interrupted by the flapping tongues of fools." Kreia walked slowly to the medical bay, to tend to her wounds, and T3 zipped back to the engine room, almost as if it had been listening to their conversation.

Ludmilla turned away, refusing to meet Atton's eyes, and walked off the bridge.

"Okay, I'll just pilot us around.  No need to fill me in.  I think I'll just fly into a star," Atton grumbled to himself, then jumped as a mild shock ran through him.  "Ow!"  He looked down and saw the T3 unit zipping away again.  "You little rust bucket!"  He jumped out of the pilot's chair and chased the droid, so intent on his pursuit that he nearly ran right into Ludmilla, who was standing in front of the door to the storage compartment.  "Ooops," he stopped himself just in time, and she smiled at him in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"I was…chasing… never mind.  What are you doing?"

"I was going to put these extra weapons in storage, but this door is locked."

Atton looked at the pile of weapons.  "Where did those come from?" he asked in confusion.

"The Sith troopers.  I stripped their equipment and spaced the bodies."  She gestured at the locked hatch.  "Can you do anything about the door?"

"Sure," Atton pulled out his tools, and easily defeated the security.  The door slid open, to reveal a damaged protocol droid and a collection of odds and ends.  "How did that get here?"

Ludmilla shook her head.  "This ship is just full of surprises."  She checked the droid, and the head fell off.  "I think he's gonna need a little work."  She sat down, and checked the internals of the head.  "Pieces are missing, and this is a custom job."  She stared curiously at the head again, then reached up and checked the hands.  "Interesting."

"What is it?"  Atton leaned against the door, and watched her.  "Find something?"

Ludmilla shook her head.  "Not exactly, it's just… very customized.  I've never seen anything like this model before, and the way it's put together reminds me of someone, that's all.  She was always very … particular… about her materials."

"It looks like that droid that tried to kill us earlier."

"Only on the outside," Ludmilla explained.  "This one is much more complex.  Someone tried to copy it, but they couldn't replicate it exactly.  They cut corners, whoever made this didn't."  She stood up and showed Atton the interior of the droid's head.  "See?"

"What the – is that gold?"

Ludmilla nodded, and began to reattach the head to the body.

Atton shook his head.  "Right, then, I'll let you get on with that and see what's in the galley.  I'm not holding out much hope, but hey, like you said, this ship is full of surprises.  Maybe we'll get lucky I'll find some grazers in cold storage.  Or some gornt!  I could make bette-pone."

Ludmilla looked at him.  "Can you cook?"

"Can I cook, she asks!" he scoffed.  "I can make shoe leather palatable.  Just don't ask me to cook for a Hutt, I can't bring myself to do it."  Atton laughed and headed for the galley.

Ludmilla tried not to stare at Atton and went back to fixing the droid as much as she could, then put the salvaged parts and weapons into the storage compartment.

Kreia followed the smell of tempering chocolate to the galley.  "What are you doing?" she asked Atton.

Atton looked over his shoulder to make sure Ludmilla was out of earshot.  "I'm cooking, what does it look like?"

"The chocolate.  That's not food, that's a bribe."

Atton grinned.  "Fine, you caught me."  He held up a battered leather bag that had been repaired numerous times.  "It was in the storage compartment where we found that droid, but she didn't notice.  I guess that first assassin droid left it there."

"And you stole the cigarettes."

"Those things are poison," he complained.  "I hate them."

"Not more than I do," said Kreia grimly.  "What did you do with them?"

"Well, I hid them, and I was going to give her the bag back with the chocolates instead.  I think it's a fair trade, don't you?"

"Where are they?" Kreia demanded.

Atton sighed, and pulled out a storage box from the cold storage.

Kreia took the box, and checked it.  "Is this all of them?" she asked again.  Atton nodded, and she tossed the box into the ejector and jettisoned them into space.  "You'll thank me for that," she said calmly as Atton stared at her.  "Kissing someone after they've had a cigarette is a horrible experience."  Kreia helped herself to some chocolate from the pile of finished ones that Atton had laid out to set on the table, and walked back upstairs before he recovered from his shock.

Ludmilla carried another set of blankets and pillows to the cargo hold, and finished setting up a sleeping space for herself in the alcove there.  She heard someone enter the hold, and turned.

"Hello," said Atton.  "You know, there are plenty of bunks.  Why are you setting up camp here?"

Ludmilla smiled wryly.  "It's a long story.  I'll be much more comfortable in here, don't worry about it."

"Anyway, food's ready anytime you want to have a meal.  Just go in and help yourself.  Oh, and uh… I found something.  Don't be angry," he pleaded as he handed over the bag.

Ludmilla gasped in delight.  "My bag!"  She clutched the precious worn leather bag to her chest.  "Thank you so much!  Where did you find it?"

"It was on the floor in the storage compartment.  You were distracted by the droid."

"Why did you think I would be angry?"

Atton ran his hand nervously through his hair.  "Well, I, uh…"

While he fumbled for the words, she opened the bag, curious to know why it was so heavy.  "Why does my bag smell like candy?"  She opened the first box, and pulled out a foil wrapped chocolate.  "Where did these come from?  And what did you do with my cigarettes?" she asked suspiciously.

"I got carried away," he said lamely.  "And… look, they're gone.  Just eat some candy instead, and when you run out, I'll make more.  Just… no cigarettes, okay?"

She stared at him.

"Just try one."

"You could have asked me first."

"I was going to, but… it was an accident, okay?"  Atton didn't think it was worth the effort of blaming the old woman for the loss of thousands of credits worth of contraband cigarettes.  "I'm really sorry.  You've gone without them this long," he said hopefully.

Ludmilla looked back at her bag.  Everything else was there, the case, the lighter, the battered old datapads.  Only the boxes were different, but he had apparently replaced each carton with a box of candy.  Curiously, she opened another box, and found caramels instead of chocolates.  "They're all different!" she exclaimed.  "You made all of these?"

Atton nodded.  "You really should try them."

Ludmilla sat down on the floor.  "My mother made this bag," she said suddenly.  "It was the only thing they let me keep when the Jedi took me away.  I had to pretend it wasn't special so they wouldn't take it away."  She reached into the bag and pulled out the silver cigarette case.  "And Revan gave this to me.  On Telos.  We were out drinking before a battle.  I don't even remember which one.  Just that she gave me the case, and Malak gave me the lighter.  I can't even imagine how long it took them to find these.  They must have hunted in every antique stall in the whole sector.  They were my friends, and we were saving the galaxy."  She looked up at Atton, and saw that he was listening.  "We weren't evil.  We knew the Mandalorians couldn't be stopped with words.  We knew that we were going against the will of the Council.  But we had to!

"If they had given us anything, one word, anything that would have shown that they had a plan of their own, we would have stopped.  But they never did.  Not once.  All they did was blame us for our defiance, even though we had saved the Republic.

"And now, even that is gone."  Her head fell, and she slumped against the wall.

A hundred things fluttered through Atton's mind in response to her words, and he grabbed a thought at random.  "Do you know you light up the room when you smile?"  He saw her hold back a laugh, and a small tear escaped her eyes.  "It's like a beacon.  If the power ever fails on the ship, I'll just tell a joke so everyone can find their way to you."  Atton turned and left her alone in the cargo hold, a tiny, pleased smile shining brightly on her lips.


	5. "And then, the sky rained fire…"

Ludmilla sat down at the table with her third helping.  Atton had not exaggerated his cooking ability.  He had turned the staple instant noodles into a savory dish with meat and vegetables from the cold storage, and some incredible wine-based sauce that she had never tasted before.

Kreia walked into the galley, and helped herself to a mug of hot chocolate from the pot that Atton had left on the counter.  "At least his tongue has some value," she said, sneering slightly less than she usually did.  "I shall miss his cooking when he leaves us on Telos, if not his constant yapping."

Ludmilla froze for a moment.  It had occurred to her that Atton should leave, but she had avoided thinking about it.

"Or did you plan to drag him along with you, unprepared, to face Sith Lords and the like?" snarled Kreia.  "Think, girl.  Think of what you are doing."

Ludmilla put down her fork.  "I know."  She sighed, and looked down at her hands.  "Thank you for reminding me."

"You must talk to him," said Kreia firmly.  "If he is mad enough to want to follow you, that would be different.  But -"

"Mad as in crazy?" grinned Atton as he walked down the stairs.  "I assume you're talking about me?"

"Yes," Ludmilla began.  "When we reach Telos -"

"We'll all probably be arrested," he interrupted.  "What, you two didn't think of that?"  He looked from one to the other, noting their surprise.  "You two are like, the worst Jedi ever.  Do you even know galactic law?  We're heading to Telos directly after dooming the reconstruction effort.  What did you think would happen?"

"Ah, I had not considered that," said Kreia.

"What are you talking about?"

"The reconstruction of Telos.  When did you leave, exactly?  And how did you manage to hide from all the major current events in the galaxy?" asked Atton in disbelief.

Ludmilla shrugged.  "I was drunk for most of the first year, and after that, it didn't seem to matter very much."

"Right," said Atton uncertainly.  "But you didn't feel anything?  You know, the Force and all that?"

"This is no time -" Kreia began, but Ludmilla interrupted.  There was no point in hiding the truth.

"I was cut off from the Force.  That's what they do to Exiles.  I haven't been able to use the Force for ten years."

Atton was stunned, and confused.  "That's horrible.  But, but you...  I've seen you use it."

"Somehow, it came back.  When I woke up on Peragus, it started coming back, but very slowly.  Most likely, it has something to do with my bond with Kreia.  We're linked, because she saved my life."

"So the old hag can do some good," Atton muttered under his breath.  "Is that the same thing that made you feel it when she lost her hand?" he asked.

Ludmilla nodded, and Kreia frowned.

"Why is it that the only Jedi who actually do anything useful are all insane?" Atton asked.  "I mean, it took a megalomaniac to save the galaxy the first time, and now we get a masochist.  Seriously?"

"You are quite possibly the most annoying fool the galaxy has ever produced," said Kreia sharply.

"Keep it up, old woman, and I'll cut off the hot chocolate supply."

Ludmilla giggled at that.  "Okay, enough bickering.  Please.  Tell me about Telos."

"Malak destroyed Telos," said Kreia flatly, and took another sip of her hot chocolate.

Atton sighed.  He would have broken the news more gently, but Kreia seemed to delight in shocking Ludmilla with the fall of her former companions.

"He what?"

"He moved the Sith fleet over the surface of Telos IV, and bombarded it for twenty Standard hours until it was burned clean."

Ludmilla didn't bother asking why.  She knew why he had done it.  Standard Mandalorian tactics, to drive entire systems into submission.  She just wished, that of all the stories of her youth, he had chosen to listen to a different one.  She sighed.  "Is there a terminal that I can use to catch up on history?  Before I drive the two of you completely insane?"

"The droid will know," said Kreia, and Ludmilla left to go find T3.  "All the hot chocolate is gone, boy.  If you want me to keep being nice, you'd better get back to work."

"This is you being nice?"  Atton could feel her glare, even though he couldn't see her eyes beneath the hood.  "Okay, I believe you.  Stop looking at me like that."  He set the empty pot to wash.  "What?  Why are you still staring at me?"

"Are you leaving, or are you staying?"

"I haven't decided," said Atton.  "While the prospect of being an unpaid slave for you has remarkable appeal, I'm not so sure about the whole 'charging into avoidable danger' thing the two of you have planned."

"So you have someplace safe to hide from the coming storm?" she sneered.

"Yeah, that's the problem.  I don't, and if you knew that, I'd like to take this moment to thank you for rubbing it in."

"I suspected," said Kreia smugly.  "Besides, the girl is appealing bait for someone like you.  But I haven't decided whether I want you to stay or not."

"Congratulations, you just made up my mind for me.  I'll stay."

Kreia frowned.  "Insolent fool.  Do not underestimate the dangers of this journey."

"Believe me, I have no intention of underestimating the Sith," said Atton pointedly.  "The chocolate is ready, your highness."

"You try my patience, boy."

"Because I hate you.  And you know it.  You're lucky it isn't poisoned, Jedi."  Atton left the galley and went upstairs to seek Ludmilla, as an antidote to Kreia's nastiness.

As soon as he was gone, a wicked smile crossed the old woman's face.  "Love is such a strong leash."  She poured herself another cup, and sighed contentedly.  "The Royal Corellian recipe.  It has been a long time."  She sat down at the table, and considered her current resources.  "A stolen ship, a kidnapped exile, an insane droid, and a lovesick fool."  She took another sip.  "Ah, and chocolate.  I think I am doing quite well."

Atton found Ludmilla in the security room, working on T3.  She had pulled off her top, and was listening intently to the droid's chatter as she worked.  "And just like that, my day got better," he said, admiringly.

"Were you fighting with Kreia again?" grinned Ludmilla.  "She always wins, and she enjoys it much more than you do."

T3 chirped something.

"Yeah, no kidding," Atton agreed.

"She is trying to help," said Ludmilla gently.  "Which is more than anyone else has done."

"True," Atton agreed grudgingly.  "I just wish I knew why she was so eager to help."

Ludmilla looked at him curiously.  "Why do you hate Jedi so much?"

"I don't hate all Jedi.  Just a specific type.  Speaking of Jedi, whatever happened to your lightsaber?"

Ludmilla tightened some more screws on T3's chassis, and dusted the droid a bit before answering.  "When they told me I was no longer a Jedi, I gave my lightsaber back."

"Gave?"

Ludmilla chuckled gently, and sat back on her heels.  "I didn't hurt anyone."

"Uh huh."  Atton sat down on the floor next to her.  "Property damage?"

She laughed.  "There may have been some."  T3 spun in a circle, showing off the fixes.  "I'll need more parts, but I'll get you fixed up, T3-M4."  The droid clicked happily and whizzed away, leaving the two humans alone.  She settled herself on the floor next to Atton.  "Those candies are wonderful, by the way."

"Oh, you finally tried them?" he grinned.  "Which ones did you try?"

"I sampled one of each."  Ludmilla smiled warmly at him.  "Probably the second best things I've ever put in my mouth."

Atton looked at her in surprise.  "The first item on that list isn't cigarettes, is it?"

She shook her head.

"You are the strangest Jedi I have ever met."

Ludmilla laughed.  "You only met the cloistered ones, I suppose.  When we left to go fight the Mandalorians, we left a lot behind."

"I see," Atton smiled.  "Like the shirt."

"And yet, I've been sitting here all this time, and you haven't tried to kiss me once."

"Uh," Atton looked away, nervously.  "Let me correct myself.  Strangest woman I have ever met."

"Well, if you don't want to make out, we can just keep talking.  Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"I – uh...." Atton sighed.  He had no idea what to make of this insanely beautiful woman.  "My mother owned a bakery."

"What did your father do?" she asked curiously.

"He seduced women who owned bakeries," said Atton shortly.  "What about you?"

"My mother was a slave, and traded her body for her life.  When her owner was killed, they let her stay on and work unmolested in the garage because she was very good with machines.  You know what they say.  The way to a Mandalorian's heart is through his armor.  But she refused to take the oath, and so did I.  We lived on sufferance until someone in the camp mentioned me to a Jedi, and then the Council took me away to be trained."

"So what happened to her?"

Ludmilla shrugged.  "She killed herself."

"Can't blame her," said Atton quietly.  "No wonder you hate Mandalorians."

"I don't hate them.  I despise them.  They all have tunnel vision, they can't see the big picture.  Mandalore the Ultimate had a great plan for the Mandalorian culture, and he had to wipe out seven clans before anyone would even listen to him.  They're as bad as the Sith when it comes to planning for the future."

Atton laughed.  "That's a terrible image.  A Sith Lord and Mandalore the Ultimate trying to establish a development plan."

Ludmilla laughed as well.  She turned slightly and quickly kissed Atton on the lips, then sat down again.

"Hey!"  He stared at her.  "What was that?"

"I felt like it," she grinned.  "You make me laugh."

"You're not just doing it to make me stay, are you?"

"What?" she looked at him in surprise.  "Would it work?  I did it because I thought you were leaving, and didn't want to miss my chance."

"I want to stay and help," he explained.  "Unless that means you're going to put your shirt back on.  You need help, in more ways than one," he grinned as she straddled his hips and put her arms around him.  "And, uh, I want to..." She interrupted his speech with soft kisses.  "You know, I thought it would be more difficult to get to this point."  He pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

"I know when I need to wait," she whispered, "and when I need to act."  She kissed him again, drinking in the taste of his lips, and his hands slid over her body.

"I do hate to interrupt," said Kreia dryly.

"Then why do you sound so happy?" snapped Atton.

"Are we not approaching Telos?  Perhaps someone should go check.  Someone who knows how to pilot a ship."

"Fine, I'm going."  Atton kissed Ludmilla one more time before he let her go, and they stood up.

"Are you allergic to your clothing?" asked Kreia acidly.

Ludmilla picked up her shirt from the floor and pulled it back on without answering.

Kreia made a noise of irritation and walked away.


	6. Charms and Tokens, pt.1

"How do you get a Corellian into a force cage?" joked the first guard.

Atton groaned.  "Why did I listen to you?  Why did I come here?  I can't believe we're being arrested."

"You're not under arrest," said Lieutenant Grenn.  "You're being held until we can verify your story about what happened on Peragus, and clear your identities with the Republic."

"We're all gonna die," moaned Atton theatrically.

Grenn, head of the Telos Security Forces, gritted his teeth.  "I hate arresting Corellians."

"I'll bite.  How do you get a Corellian in a force cage?" asked Ludmilla.

"Tell him there's a pazaak deck inside," grinned one guard.

"Tell him there's a woman inside," said another.

Ludmilla shook her head.  "That's just silly," she said as she stepped into the force cage.  "If you really want to get a Corellian into a cage, bet him he won't go in."

The guards joined her in a laugh, and Atton grumbled.  "Very funny."

"Double check the power cycles on the cages, and make sure everything is in working order.  I'm not taking any chances," Grenn commanded firmly.

"Okay, now you're just being rude," snapped Atton.  "It's not like the cage is going to break just because you have to lock up a Corellian."

There was a slight power fluctuation, and the cages all turned off.

Atton turned bright red, and even Kreia smiled slightly.  Ludmilla laughed openly.

Grenn sighed the sigh of a long-suffering policeman in trying circumstances, and the guards held back their laughter while the technician got the cages back online.

"Sorry, sir," said the technician nervously.

"Thank you," Grenn looked curiously at the three prisoners.  "I noticed that none of you made any attempt to escape."

"Why would we?" Ludmilla asked.  "We didn't do anything wrong, and I know you'll let us go."

"We'll see."  He didn't want to like these people, but he couldn't help trusting her.  "This won't take long.  I'll be back within the hour."  He looked glumly at Atton.  "Try not to break anything while I'm gone."

"I didn't do anything!" he protested.  "Can I get a pazaak deck?  Or a loose woman?"

Grenn shook his head and walked away, and the guards finally gave in to their mirth.

"I could go for some chocolate," said Ludmilla.  "Or a drink.  I'm hungry.  Is there any food here?"

"How do you not get fat?" asked Atton.  "You eat constantly.  Seriously," he said to the guards.  "She puts sugar on sugar.  She made a sugar sandwich the other day.  And washed it down with half a bottle of something with so much alcohol it burned bright blue."

"Is this part of the torture?" asked Kreia.

"He's nervous," said Ludmilla calmly.  "You could just ask him to be quiet."

"One might as well ask a planet to stop turning," snapped Kreia.

"Or you could try asking a dried up old witch to be nice for a change!"

"Don't mind them," said Ludmilla to the guards, "they actually like each other."

"What?" snapped Kreia, outraged.

"Are you delusional?" snarled Atton, at the same time.

Ludmilla smiled, and the guards choked back more laughter.  Another guard came in, and the jokesters left the prisoners alone with the new guard.

"We'll have a game or two as soon as we get out of here," Atton promised as the joking guards left.  "I am going to be so rich," he grinned.  "So, new guy, do you play pazaak too?  It's the game of kings!  Really stupid, bored kings."

The guard closed the door to the holding cells.  "So," he said, "you are the 'Last of the Jedi.'  I must say, I'm not impressed."

"Wait, you're a bounty hunter," Atton laughed, "You?  Man, the Exchange is really tapped for resources."

"What?" the false guard exclaimed.  "I'm more than enough to kill you."

"Right," said Atton, his rich voice filled with cruel mockery.  "Because a two-bit pistol jockey in stolen rags is going to somehow kill three people and not get caught on his way out.  Why didn't they just hire a Mandalorian to blow up the whole room?"

"I'm ten times smarter than any Mandalorian!  I didn't steal this uniform, I killed this guard and stole his identity!  My plan is flawless."

"Oh?" Atton visibly pretended interest.  "And how were you planning to walk out with the Jedi as a prisoner?  Or were you going to do something stupid like hack the console and try to overload the cages?"

"Er….  Of course, overloading the cages had occurred to me.  I …" the bounty hunter examined the console, and Atton just shook his head.  "They are willing to pay for her body, alive or dead.  Dead it is then," he said, and tapped the commands into the console.

The cages shut down again.

"You know," said Atton in a confidential tone, "ten times smarter than a Mandalorian still makes you about as smart as a Corellian's toe."

Ludmilla bounded out of the cage and tackled the bounty hunter, knocking him unconscious with a single powerful blow.

Kreia looked at the bounty hunter with disgust.  "I will never forgive this stain upon the universe for inspiring me with a moment of admiration for that babbling idiot."

"You know what?  Next time we're locked up, I think I'll try and see if I can talk them into killing you first."

The door opened, and Lt.  Grenn charged in.  "What's going on here?  The security alarms indicated that the cages were opened from the console."  He looked down at the unconscious man on the floor.  "That's not one of my men."

"He's a bounty hunter.  He said he stole the uniform," Ludmilla explained.

"What the hell is going on?" Grenn shook his head.  "Look, we've arranged a residential apartment for you while we complete our investigations."

"Are we still under arrest?" Ludmilla asked.

"We're still confirming your version of the events on Peragus, and now we have this matter to investigate.  Don't worry, you'll be under the protection of the Telos Security Forces.  I will personally clear any visitors to your quarters."

Ludmilla sighed, trying to keep her temper under control.  "Maybe you could stop telling everyone that I'm here?"

Grenn didn't respond, just opened the door so that they could be escorted to their new quarters.

"Well, at least it's a step up from force cages," said Atton with distaste.  "There's no kitchen!  How is this residential?"  He walked into the rooms, and explored the eating area.  "A meal dispenser.  Ugh.  What am I supposed to do with this?"  He pulled out some packages of instant food, and started making something palatable out of them.

"And there will be no pazaak playing with the guards," said Grenn.  "Not while they're on duty."

Ludmilla closed the door after the security officer, and threw herself down on one of the beds.

Kreia sat carefully on the floor, folding her legs beneath her, and began to meditate.

With a sigh, Ludmilla stood up and did the same.  She considered, analyzed herself, felt Kreia doing the same.  By the time the food was ready, she felt calmer and more centered.  She went to the eating area to help Atton with the food.

"What happened to your hand?"  She looked curiously at the small bandages on his hand.

"What?  Oh, the stupid package.  Cut myself," he explained as he set out the stew he had created from the instant food packages.  Kreia looked curiously at Atton as she sat down.  "Don't worry," he said viciously, "I didn't bleed in your food or anything."

"I was wondering why you didn't just ask one of us to heal that for you," she said mildly.  She tasted the food.  "If only you didn't speak, you would be the perfect man."

"This is really good, Atton," said Ludmilla, before he could snap back at her.  "There isn't anything decent to drink, is there?"

"Your choices are fruit juice and the weakest ale that money can buy."

Ludmilla made a face.  "Where's the juice?"

"Cooler," he pointed.

Ludmilla pulled out a can of juice for herself.  "Kreia, do you want some?"

"I will have water, child.  Thank you," she said as Ludmilla set a bottle before her.

"Atton, what do you want?"

"I want you to take your shirt off."

"Perhaps you could do that after dinner?" snapped Kreia.

"Hey, I was just answering the question.  Or did you mean to drink?" he asked innocently.  "I'll take some juice."

Ludmilla grinned and handed him a can, then sat down at the table again.

Kreia shook her head.  "I think I will stay in this room for the near future.  If you two could kindly contain your frolicking to the room with beds in it, I would appreciate it."

"Why don't you ever tell her to stop fooling around?" Atton asked curiously.  "I thought Jedi were supposed to be celibate and not form attachments."

"Jedi?  The same order that turned on itself and is still trying to doom itself to extinction?  The blind fools that can't hear worlds dying over the sounds of their petty squabbling?"  Kreia shook her head slowly.  "We don't stop being Human just because we can use the Force.  Or, we shouldn't," she said softly, as if to some memory.  "You irritate me because you're a disrespectful, chattering fool.  That does not change the fact that you're tall, dark and handsome.  I have no problem with letting the child enjoy herself."

"I like how you managed to negate anything that I might have taken as a compliment with an insult."

"Years of practice," said Kreia with a slight smile.

Ludmilla laughed, and finished her food.  She cleaned up the eating area while Atton finished eating, and then they left Kreia alone.  Atton kissed her as soon as the door separating them from Kreia closed.  He still tasted like the sweet juice, and sugar, and she kissed him hungrily.

He laughed softly, and pulled her closer.  She kissed him again, and undid her jacket so that her top would slide away.  Atton smiled in appreciation, and she pulled off his jacket as well, slid her hands over the shirt he was wearing beneath it.

"Silk," she murmured, "I love touching silk."

He grinned.  "I can leave it on."  They lay down on the floor, trading kisses to each other, touching, caressing.  She turned so that he was on top of her, and wrapped her leg around his waist, grinding their hips together.  Atton gasped in surprise, buried his head in her neck.

Ludmilla could feel his body quiver, and smiled to herself.  She kissed his neck, and continued to grind herself against him, running her hands over the silk shirt, drinking in the taste of his passion and his sweat.

"Oh, I'm not usually this easy," he moaned, and swore under his breath.

She smiled, a little wickedly.  "Well, I am," she kissed him again, forcing her lips against his, her body exploiting his sensitivity, his weakness, until he sank against her, panting.  She ran her legs over his, smiling, savoring the feel of his weight on top of her, the warm damp sweetness of his release.

He made a small noise of gratitude, and kissed her breasts, one after the other.  She ran her hands through his hair, and he kissed her breasts again.  She smiled, and purred softly in satisfaction.

Atton moved to kiss her lips again, and the messaging terminal rang.

"Dammit!"  Atton buried his head in her breasts.  "Can we ignore it?"

She laughed, trying to ignore her frustration.  "I don't think it will help if we do."  She sat up, and Atton rolled to one side.  He reached over for her shirt, but she walked over to the terminal without it.

"Hello?"

The viewscreen showed a security guard.  "Hello, you have… perfect breasts."  His eyes were wide and shocked.

"Yes, I know," she said patiently.  "But that's not why you called me," her accent slipped again.

The guard swallowed nervously, and tried again.  "You have a visitor, ma'am.  Moza, from the Ithorian planet-restoration team."

"I guess I should put my clothes back on," she said calmly.  "Tell him we'll be just a moment."

Atton put his arm behind his head, and smiled at her from where he lay on the floor.  "I think you really enjoy doing that.  And for the record, you really do have perfect breasts."

"Thank you," she smiled back.  "And you," she knelt down so that she could kiss him again, "are delicious.  And I haven't even gotten to the best part yet," she murmured.

She kissed him again, and held him in the kiss until someone knocked at the door, and she finally pulled away from him with a disappointed sigh.

"At some point," said Atton softly, "you're going to have to put that shirt back on."

Kreia emerged from the eating area.  "Did someone knock?  Put your clothes back on, and peel that idiot off the floor before he melts and gets stuck there."

Atton laughed and stood up slowly.  "I think I'll go clean myself off."

Kreia waited until Atton had disappeared into the washroom and Ludmilla had pulled her top back on before she opened the door.

She welcomed the Ithorian politely, if somewhat coldly.  Atton returned, and they listened to the tale of the bickering over the Telos reconstruction.  Ludmilla seemed bored until the Ithorian mentioned the name of the company that was trying to muscle the Ithorians out of the project.

"Czerka?" she shouted.

The Ithorian recoiled in shock, and tried to explain some more but Ludmilla had stopped listening.

"Enough, I'll help you.  I don't care anymore.  I'll go see your leader as soon as they let us out of here."

The Ithorian left gratefully, if somewhat concerned by her reaction.

"I take it Czerka isn't one of your favorite intergalactic corporations?" said Kreia dryly.

"Corporation?  They're nothing more than thugs with uniforms."  Ludmilla crossed her arms angrily.  "Just wait, they'll call as soon as the Ithorian is gone."  Her rage caused her to completely lose her ability to mask her accent.

Atton stared at her.  "I have a new request.  The next time we're making out, stop hiding the accent."

Ludmilla smiled at him.  "It is bad habit, I know.  Years, and years, and I still can't hide it."

"Why would you?"

"Because sometimes a woman wants a man to listen to her words, and not her voice."

"Right," Atton agreed.  "When we're making out, that's not one of the times."

Ludmilla laughed, and the terminal rang again.  "I told you," she snarled.  She let the guard connect them to the caller from Czerka.  She waited while the woman introduced herself.  "Tell me," Ludmilla demanded, "has Czerka changed ownership in the last, oh, fifteen years?"

"What?  No, of course not.  Czerka has continued as a profitable enterprise since before the Mandalorian wars."

"Right," snarled Ludmilla.  "So you're still run by the same bastards who repeatedly failed to ship weapons to Republic installations during those wars?  The same people who left men – my men – waiting for arms and armor that never came?"

"Uh… I can't speak directly to that but I'm sure that there is a reasonable explanation," she stammered.

"Oh there is, you backstabbing two-faced little bitch!  Czerka sold our arms to the Mandalorians and claimed that they had stolen them!  You want my help?  You find me the garrison of Vog Station, you find me what happened to the shields that were supposed to be delivered to Teth Minor, you murdering little slime!  Don't you dare ask me for help!  I suggest you pack your bags and get off this station as fast as you can, before I find a way to expose your double-dealing traitorous Czerka ass!"  She cut off the communication and stalked away, trying to recover her sense of balance.

Kreia watched her for a moment then turned to Atton.  "I will leave this in your hands," she said and retreated to the eating area.

Atton laughed lightly, and waited until the door closed.  "You're sure you were a Jedi?"

Ludmilla laughed, and let him pull her into his arms for a kiss.  "Yes, I was.  A very good one, in my own opinion."

"And some other people, too," he kissed her neck.  "You're very sexy when you're angry.  And when you're calm."  She laughed softly as he continued, and let herself settle into his arms, brushing her hands over his hair again.  "When you're half-naked, when you're clothed.  But I don't understand how you were ever a Jedi.  You feel things, but your feelings don't control you, you don't hide from them."  He looked over at the terminal.  "I've never seen a Jedi get angry like that before.  Isn't that the path to the Dark Side?" he asked mockingly.

"Not always," she said, suddenly serious.  She held his head in her hands so she could see his eyes.  "I have never fallen to the Dark Side.  I am not evil, and I will never be evil.  But I am no coward, and I will not let injustice go unpunished just because I fear what might happen to me if I stand up for what I know is right."

Atton watched her face carefully, the soft fire in her green eyes, listened to the truth in her voice.

"We were taught that the path that we must walk is straight and narrow, and that any deviation from it would lead to an irretrievable fall.  I deny that statement completely.  The path is broad, and twists like any natural forest path.  The danger is not in falling, it is in losing your way, and there is always a way back.  Always."

Atton shook his head.  "I don't buy the last part.  Some things can't be forgiven."

She shrugged.  "When it happens to me, I'll believe it.  Until then, I believe there is always a way."

His eyes flickered over the classic lines of her face, the gentle slant of her eyes, the perfect curve of her lips.  "You really do believe that, don't you?"  Atton reached for her, gently tilted her head so that he could drop a rain of kisses along her chin, leading away from her lips, moving up to her ears.  "It seems to have worked for you," he whispered, and she kissed his neck, tasting his skin.

"Why did you put your jacket back on?" she asked.  "I'm just going to take it off again," she said as she did just that.  Atton laughed.  "I only put my shirt back on because she made me."

"Anyway, I was just pointing out that you don't seem to have forgiven Czerka."  He kissed her neck again and waited for her to respond.

"If they leave, I'll consider that their first step on a new path.  I did that because I want her to pull the files and realize what kind of people she's working for, and leave before it's too late."

"Too late?"

"If they cross me," she said calmly, "it will be too late."  The terminal rang again, and she kissed Atton's neck one last time before she walked over to answer it.


	7. Pas d'Ange

Ludmilla raced across the hangar to the shuttle.  "Come on, before that lieutenant figures out what we're doing!"

They boarded, and Atton headed the shuttle down to the shattered surface.  "I still think that droid stole the ship.  He's probably out joyriding, somewhere.  What's the droid equivalent of hookers and spice?"

"It is more likely that Czerka made off with our ship after someone's poorly-concealed display of bad temper."

"There wasn't any record of our ship being moved in the mainframe," Ludmilla said calmly, refusing to let Kreia bait her.  "There's some other group involved here."

The sensors started beeping an alarm.  "However, I would like to point out that Czerka is still running the ground security on the planet.  And we're in an unauthorized, unarmored shuttle.  Ludmilla, could you please convince her not to talk for the next five minutes so I can do my best to keep everyone from dying?"

Kreia tightened her lips, and Ludmilla grinned.  She sat back and watched Atton dodge the planetside defenses, trying to get to the landing zone the Ithorians had mentioned.  She still couldn't believe someone had stolen T3 and the Ebon Hawk, and she had learned a long time ago that true coincidences are few and far between.

Atton swore as a blast ripped a hole in the starboard wing of the tiny shuttle.  "Okay, you can talk again now.  I can crash this thing with my eyes closed."

"I pray for the day when she tires of you, fool, and yet your constant ability to shock and surprise means that day moves farther away every time you speak."

Atton chuckled as he maneuvered the shuttle for a crash landing.  "That was a good one, old woman."

The shuttle landed hard, and the next thing Ludmilla felt was soft grass on her face.  She sat up, slowly, checking for injuries.

"Good to have you back, General."

She looked up, pleased but after decades of experience with the Force, not surprised.  "Bao-Dur."  She stood, and gave the Iridonian a welcoming hug.  "Did you pull us out of the crash?"

He nodded, his tiny horns glinting in the sunlight.  "It's only fair, General.  I owe you one.  More than one, I think."

Ludmilla smiled at the memories.  "No one kept count, old man."  She looked him over, surprised by the cybernetic arm.  "Did you build that yourself?"

"The old one kept dropping things," he smiled gently.  "Besides, I like this one better."  He flexed his artificial fingers to prove that all the parts worked.

Ludmilla smiled back at him, and turned to see how her companions were.

Atton staggered to his feet.  "Wow, this reminds me of the last time I was on Telos."

"Did you crash a shuttle then too?" asked Bao-Dur.

"No, I got mixed up in a strike pazaak game."  Atton cradled his aching head in his hands.  "Is the old woman all right?"

"She's tougher than she looks," said Bao-Dur.  "She'll be fine."

"Dammit.  Is there any chance of you taking off your shirt, then?  I need something to look forward to."

"Still screwing the crew, General?"

Ludmilla grinned.  "When the crew looks like that, yes."

Atton blushed.  "I didn't get the horny alien's name."

"Bao-Dur.  He's an Iridonian, and that's the last time you will make a joke about the horns." Ludmilla said sternly.

"Go easy, General," said Bao-Dur gently.  "I'm not offended."

"General?  You know him?"

"We served together," said Ludmilla shortly.  "What's the situation here, old man?  Have you seen any ships land recently – a low-stock freighter, red marks on a white hull?"

"What are the chances that you would survive a crash landing and run into someone you know on the surface of a dead planet and actually have them know where your stolen ship is?"

"When you're dealing with the Force, nothing is more likely," said Kreia as she slowly stood up.

"Yes!  You're awake, at last my misery is complete.  Shot at, yelled at – "

"I didn't mean to yell," Ludmilla said humbly.  "Don't take it to heart."

Atton looked at her in surprise.  "You're ruining my self-pity moment.  Stop."

Ludmilla laughed, and turned back to Bao-Dur.  "Help me out, old man.  Tell me you have something for me."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to crash land on my party for nothing, General.  There's a Czerka compound just north of here, with a really good scanning system.  If your ship is anywhere on the planet, once I hit that terminal, I can find it.  Of course," Bao-Dur pointed out, "there are Czerka mercs everywhere, and that sentry droid has probably already reported your crash.  We could possibly sweep wide the western perimeter and avoid being spotted."  Bao-Dur looked at her, and she looked back at him.  "I didn't think you'd be interested, General.  Straight up the center, as usual?"

"You do know her," grinned Atton.

Bao-Dur looked curiously at him.  "Has she ever told you about the minefield on Cormyhlu?"

"Bao-Dur!  Let's get going.  Weapons up, ranged support."

"Yes, General," he said with a slight smile.

 

"Why does she call you 'old man' anyway?  You don't look much older than her."

"I'm an Iridonian.  I've seen at least as twice as many Standard years as she has."

"Okay, you're old."

"Thanks."

Atton grinned.  "Last question, I promise."

"How can you tell when a Corellian is lying?  His lips are moving."

"That's totally originist.  I'm offended."

"And yet, your lips are moving.  What's your question, Atton?"

"What happened to your arm?"

"A planet hit the ship I was in."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"A planet.  Not a very big one, but you know, mass."  Bao-Dur's face never changed as he spoke.  "Crushed the ship to bits, and I was caught inside.  Everyone was evacuating, and I couldn't get out in time.  No one could reach me.  Then a crazy Jedi with a silver lightsaber dropped down next to me and cut the wreckage away.  Nearly caused a hull breach.  I kept yelling at her to go, because she shouldn't be risking her life for a stupid half-dead weapons tech."

"She didn't listen to you, did she?"

"It's like you know her."  He looked over at the General, who was busy cutting down Czerka mercenaries.  "Did you know you can survive at least sixty seconds in complete vacuum?"

"What?  No, I don't even want to think about that.  Why do you know that?"

Bao-Dur looked at him.  "Because that's how she reached the last escape pod so she could get me off the ship before it was completely destroyed.  She jumped to it."  He held up his artificial arm for a moment.  "Not much of a loss, when you think about it."

"Wow."

"Everyone falls in love with her.  It's just her nature.  But in all the years I've known her," said Bao-Dur, "I've never seen her apologize to someone like that.  What makes you so special to her, Atton?"

"I don't know," said Atton slowly.  "I didn't realize I was."

Bao-Dur checked his weapon again.  "You are, Atton.  If you hurt her, I'll kill you."  The last Czerka mercenary fell, and the Iridonian walked up to the terminal and started working.

 

"Okay," Ludmilla put her vibroblade away.  "Shuttle's ready, base is empty.  Let's head to the pole and investigate this anomaly in the shields."

Behind her, the giant combat droid dropped to its knees and collapsed for the final time.  Atton and Bao-Dur tried not to stare, and she helped Kreia back to her feet.

"Thank you, child, that was a bit more difficult than I had anticipated."  Kreia frowned at the combat droid.  "It's almost as if that droid had been designed to cripple a Jedi."

Ludmilla nodded.  "I think it was.  Well, it's done with now, so let's get going."  She headed to the shuttle door.

"The only thing that would have made that fight better would have been if she had been half-naked."

"You can't fight droids half-naked, Atton.  Not even the General."

Atton grinned, and Kreia made a noise of irritation.

"This is no time for your games, fool.  Get on the shuttle, now."

"Wait, General, why were you fighting droids half-naked?"

Ludmilla glared at Atton.  "I'll explain later.  Atton, if he knows what's good for him, will not."

Atton smiled without answering, and started the shuttle.  Bao-Dur gave him the coordinates, and they headed for the polar anomaly.  "You know, for a spot that is supposed to an empty polar mesa, that seems pretty… I don't know… sculpted."  Atton circled the strange structure to come in for a landing.

"It's…" Ludmilla leaned forward to look more carefully.  "It's a Jedi Temple."

"What?" said Atton and Bao-Dur at the same time.

"You have good eyes," said Kreia slowly.  "Indeed, it is a smaller, simpler version of the Temple on Coruscant."

"Well, at least there are no anti-aircraft guns," said Atton.  "I've had it with being shot down today."

There was a loud explosion.  The shuttle rocked, and started to lose altitude.

"What?"

"Surface to air missiles.  Someone just shot us down," said Bao-Dur.

"Dammit!"  Atton wrestled the ship down, trying to land as best as he could.

This time Ludmilla awoke to snow on her face, and knew that she hadn't been out long.  She stood up, and tripped over Kreia.  She looked around, and realized that she had carried her from the wreckage before collapsing briefly in the snow.  She looked around, then rushed back in to pull Atton and Bao-Dur to safety.  If freezing cold counted as safety.

Once she had pulled everyone from the wreckage, she looked around again, hoping for some sign of who or what had shot them down this time.  Instead, she heard footsteps on the snow, and saw a trio of Echani warmaidens approaching.  Ludmilla swore violently, and slowly raised her hands.  She heard Atton scramble to his feet behind her.

"Don't," she said warningly, and forced herself not to turn to face him.

"There are only three of them," said Atton quickly.

"We only see three of them."

The leader of the warmaidens smiled.  "You are skilled indeed.  Lay down your weapons, and you will not be harmed."

"My companions are wounded," Ludmilla said flatly.  "They need to be taken to shelter."

"We do not leave innocents to die," said the warmaiden.  "Lay down your weapons."

Ludmilla growled in frustration, carefully fell to one knee, and laid down her sword.  She stood slowly, and covered Atton while he did the same.

"Follow us," said the warmaiden.

"Please tell me we're not being put in force cages again."

The Echani didn't answer, and Kreia came to before they reached the entrance to the secret Jedi Temple.  Two of the warmaidens carried Bao-Dur away, and three split off to lead Atton and Kreia to holding cells.

"Hey!  Where are you taking her?" he demanded as the remaining warmaiden led Ludmilla away.

"Don't worry," said Ludmilla gently.  "We'll be fine."  The building was a smaller but exact copy of the true Temple.  She knew where she was going.


	8. Charms and Tokens, pt.2

"Why is that everywhere I go with you, I end up in a force cage?"  Atton looked around in despair.  "What is this place, anyway?  And why did they lock us up this time?"

"It is a training ground," Kreia mused.  "For Jedi, but where are all the students?"

"You're joking, right?  What the hell would a Jedi Academy be doing out here?"

"The Jedi prefer hidden places for their academies, to continue the mystique of their training and their Order," said Kreia distastefully.  "Places hidden from the galaxy, and yet easily reached by those who know what to seek."  She smiled beneath her hood.  "Clever girl, Atris.  You have chosen wisely in this place."

"Are they going to keep us here long?  The sooner we're outta here, the better.  Two crazy Jedi are more than enough for me.  I didn't sign on to be dumped in a nest of Jedi."

Kreia turned her face to him, her eyes hidden beneath her hood as always.  "Your fear, boy… what is it that you fear so?  Is it this place?  Or the people within?"

"I've told you before," he snapped.  "I don't like Jedi.  I don't want to be surrounded by them.  I can barely tolerate you two."

"Yes, because neither of us are real Jedi.  The kind you seem to know all too well."  Kreia's voice changed subtly.  Some of her age seemed to slip away, replaced by power.  "Tell me, fool, how do you know so much of the Jedi?  What is it that disturbs you about them?"

Atton would have looked away, but found himself unable to move.  "What… what are you doing to me?  Stop it!  Get out!  Get out of my head!"

"How is it that you know what a telepathic contact feels like, boy?  You are no natural telepath, and you are most certainly not a Jedi."  Kreia continued her relentless assault on his mind.  "Are you a danger to my plans, boy?  Are you a danger to the child I dragged back to the light from the darkest regions of the galaxy?"

"No, I would never hurt her!  Stop!  Stop it!" Atton pleaded, trying to drive her presence from his mind, trying to hide his secrets from her implacable searching.

"If the struggle pains you, submit.  I will not stop, I will follow this current to the depths of your mind," said Kreia, her voice ringing with power.  "I will find the source of your fear."

Atton screamed in agony, and fell to his knees.

Kreia gasped.  "It is not the fear that you wish to conceal.  It is the guilt.  And why are you – " she hissed, half in admiration and half in anger.  "You hid this well, boy.  Your feelings are a powerful shield, indeed."

"No," moaned Atton, miserable and sick at heart.

"Do not worry, 'Atton,' I will hold your secret safe and dark, just as you have.  If she is truly what you think of her, then she will forgive you for all your crimes.  But," Kreia smiled wickedly, "perhaps you should not confess them all at once."

"No," he whispered, "she'll never understand.  She'll never forgive me for what I've done."

"Fool.  You fear that she would think differently of you if she knew that you were not perfect?  I think she would adore you even more, if such a thing was possible.  Men," snapped Kreia in disgust.  "Blind fools, all of you."

"You don't understand," he said in agony.  "Don't tell her, please, I'll do anything you say, just don't tell her.  Don't change how she sees me."

"Very well," Kreia agreed, "but of course, there is a price for such things.  You will not find the burden too heavy to bear, I think.  She goes to wage a war, and you will follow her.  You are crude and unskilled, murderer, but you have value to me.  Whatever you feel for her, you will follow her and serve her as she wishes, until I release you.  Even if another supplants your place, you will stay.  Do you understand?"

A long time ago, Atton had realized that there is no bottom to the depths to which a man can fall.  He held his hands to his head, still throbbing with agony from Kreia's attack.  "I understand," he said sullenly.

"The same blind obedience that served you so well in the past will serve equally well here.  I feel that the Force has brought us together for some reason, and I sense that your purpose has not yet been served."

Even through the pain and misery, he couldn't keep his anger from flaring out at her.  "I do not serve the Force, you old hag!  You've got the wrong man."

"Perhaps," she said idly.  "At the very least, you can fly a ship.  I did not mean to be so brutal with you, boy, but it was unavoidable.  Sleep," she waved her hand, and Atton dropped to the floor of his cell.  "Sleep and be silent, murderer," she hissed.  "I cannot be distracted now."


	9. Path of Angels

Ludmilla walked calmly down the long passageway, into the Council chamber.  The seats were all empty.  She shook her head.  Only one person she knew would be so devoted to the old ways that she would build herself a replica of the Jedi Temple, and would surround herself with beautiful women that she had no intention of touching.

The door at the other end of the chamber opened, and a tall, beautiful woman walked out.  She had white hair and blue eyes, like the Echani warmaidens, but her face was that of a True Human.  Her common ancestry with the Echani was in the distant past, but she obviously treasured it nonetheless.  Resplendent in the traditional robes of a Jedi Archivist, Master Atris entered the room.

"And so you return.  I did not expect to see you again, after the sentencing."

Ludmilla made no answer.

"I understood that you had taken the exile's path, wandering the edge of the galaxy and wallowing in self-pity and filth.  But now you have returned.  Why?"

"What have you done with my friends, Atris?" asked Ludmilla.  She realized that the woman hadn't changed, and she never would.  She was irritated to realize that she had hoped for something different.

"Your concern is touching," said Atris sharply.  "Your friends have not been harmed.  They are being held for their safety.  I am not sure how to feel, knowing that you travel with others.  I understood that you had forsaken companionship and attachments.  Or perhaps, that is why you have come?"

Ludmilla looked at her in disbelief.  "I'm here because someone stole my ship.  Perhaps you know something about that?  It's clear you still don't understand me.  I did not come here looking for you, Atris, or any other Jedi."

"And yet, you are here.  Perhaps you do not understand yourself as well as you think.  Did you come seeking the judgment of the Council, as you did all those years ago?  Are you ready now to admit that we were right to cast you out?"

Ludmilla gritted her teeth.  The woman's fanaticism was her most consistent and irritating trait.  "You wanted us to stand by and allow innocents to die – not one or two, not thousands – but entire worlds!  Worlds died while you sat and thought about what to do!"

"And what came of your actions?" said Atris bitterly.  "More war followed, Jedi falling to the Dark Side, turning on each other, and now this."  She waved to the empty seats of her Council chamber.  "You claimed you were doing what was right.  Lies!  You sought adventure, you hungered for battle then as you do now.  You and Revan, tainted by your exposure to Mandalorian culture, became more Mandalorian than they had ever been, and you dragged half the Republic in your wake.  You were no Jedi.  You defied the Order, you ignored the Code, you fought and lived as the same monsters that you claimed to hate.  And at the end, you returned a Jedi no longer.  And so you were exiled."

Ludmilla snarled an answer, knowing that Atris would not understand her words.

"Can you not even speak a civilized tongue?"

"The reason that you can't understand it is because I fought to save you from having that language beaten into you, and everyone you loved.  If you ever loved anyone or anything aside from the sound of your own voice."

Atris drew back as if stung.  "What would you know of love?  You cheapened yourself by lying with anyone who caught your fancy.  You made a mockery of Jedi morals and teachings.  Your open defiance of the Council – the way you drove your lightsaber into the center stone – you were a menace to all that the Council stood for, and it seems that you still are."

Atris drew her lightsaber – only it wasn't her lightsaber.  It was a carefully crafted lightsaber, with a unique silver blade, the color of the quicksilver in the Temple's Room of a Thousand Fountains.

"That's my lightsaber!" said Ludmilla in shock.  "How dare you!"

"I kept it," said Atris sternly, "so that I would never forget your arrogance, and your fall."

"I never fell," hissed Ludmilla.  "I stand where I have always stood, between the defenseless and those who would harm them, no matter what armor – or robes – they wear."

"You dare!  Your loathing for the Order permeates your every decision.  I hold this blade, that you were so unworthy of, as a reminder of what befalls when a Jedi betrays the trust placed in them, when a Jedi allows their passions to dictate their actions."

Ludmilla sneered.  "You know, if you wanted a custom color so badly, you could have just asked Revan to make you one."

"You wanted to be remembered, the Jedi with the silver blade.  One of the heroes of song and story.  One of the great Jedi who won unbeatable battles."

"I wanted there to be people left in the universe.  People who didn't spend every day fighting for scraps of food while their faceless masters stride from world to world, seeking new kills for the sake of killing."

"You met aggression with more aggression!  That is not the Jedi way!"

"And the Council ran from aggression and hid.  And I wondered why people hate Jedi," said Ludmilla bitterly.

"You never understood," said Atris fiercely.  "You never considered what effects your actions would have!  Every action that we make, every choice, everything that we do sends a ripple through the Force, an echo.  By standing against the Mandalorians, you gave them a target for their hate, a subject for their battle lust.  All those echoes run through you, and because of that, you fell from the path.  You and all the Jedi who followed you to the fields of battle."

"And you?" asked Ludmilla quietly.  "What echoes did you cause, by sitting still and thinking while entire systems screamed for help?  Do those echoes run through you as well?  Do the screams of orphaned children ring in your ears?  The voices of broken women, taking an oath rather than being handed over to the soldiers again?  The battle songs of the clans claiming victory over a world that fought until it was a scorched and broken plain?  What echoes do you hear, Atris?"

"Action without reflection is not the Jedi way.  There was no guarantee that marching to war would have saved the Outer Rim – "

"Tell that to the Cathar.  Go, tell them you were waiting for a guarantee that you would succeed before you raised a finger to save them from genocide."

Atris flushed.  "Your actions caused the Jedi Civil War!  You left the Republic broken and eroded the foundations of the Jedi Order!"

"I won the war against the Mandalorians.  The only mistake I made was believing that the Council would be willing to do anything.  If I had known your plan was to sit around thinking while the Order turned on itself, I would have made a different choice."

"Choice?  What choice?  You chose to leave the Order, to follow Revan, to walk in the darkness.  And you chose to lead all those people with you."

"Step outside your archives for a minute, Atris.  I don't know if you noticed this, but people no longer care about the difference between Jedi and Sith.  Whatever you were hoping to prove from your sterile ivory towers is gone.  The Council is gone.  Blame me, and Revan, and Malak, all you want.  But that doesn't change the fact that you failed."

"How dare you!  We did not fail!  Why did you ever come back here?  The Mandalorian wars should have finished you!  Malachor V is where you should have died!"

Ludmilla didn't stop to think about her next words.  "I died long before Malachor V.  I died when I walked out of the Temple to go fight – alone."

Atris turned white with rage, and shame.  "Why are you here?  What do you want?"

"I want my ship."

"Your ship?  The one that destroyed Peragus?"

"No, my ship is the Ebon Hawk.  The Harbinger destroyed Peragus."

"More lies?  This is beneath you.  You doomed Telos with your actions, and with it, the entire reconstruction effort."

"The Harbinger destroyed Peragus," she repeated.  "It was under the control of a Sith Lord at the time."

"Sith?"  Atris was genuinely shocked.  "What do you mean?"

"A Sith Lord.  Rotten, dead, but still moving.  He was," Ludmilla laughed darkly, "hunting the Last of the Jedi.  As have others, and they all think that it's me."

"They mistake you for a Jedi?  Are the Sith really so blind?"  Atris laughed.  "What matters it?  Let them face a true Jedi, and they will fall."

"And how, exactly, would they face a 'true Jedi?'  You're hiding here beneath the snow, and you've wasted more time mocking me and beating a dead bantha than anything else."

"No doubt they let you go to see where you would lead them."

"And I'm sure your six pretty little girls will be a great help for you against a Sith army.  Meanwhile, fuel or not, everyone in Citadel station will die because you're too proud and too stupid to ask for help."

"Ask for help?  From whom?  You?"  Atris sneered.  "If you want to help, go find the other Masters.  Convince them of the Sith threat, and we will gather on Dantooine again."

"Find them?  Where?"

"The path will be clear to the seeker."

"So," Ludmilla could barely hold back her rage, "instead of uniting what remained of the Jedi, all the Masters went and hid.  You build this school in the safest place in the Outer Rim, and you leave it empty except for your little Echani lollipops."

"Get out, I've had enough of you.  Go find the other Masters.  Tell them your story, win their trust.  Then, maybe, I will believe what you say."

Ludmilla turned and stormed out of the hollow mockery of a Council chamber.  She had forgotten how badly Atris had hurt her, and how deep the scars ran.

The warmaiden who had led her to meet with Atris walked beside her again.  "I have never seen anyone affect the Mistress so strongly.  Did you mean something to each other, once?"

"No," Ludmilla answered.  "Jedi – her idea of Jedi – do not form such attachments."

"Is that not the rule of your Order?"

"It was not the rule until she made it so.  When I first began training as a Jedi, it was discouraged but not forbidden except in very specific cases."

"I am surprised to hear you speak so knowledgeably of the Order and its rules.  Mistress Atris says that you are faithless to the Jedi, that you were blinded by your lust for war and battle."

Ludmilla looked down at the warmaiden.  She was slight, like most Echani, a fragile wisp compared to Ludmilla, with slightly rounded eyes and full, generous lips – unusual traits for an Echani.  "Is there anything else that your Mistress has told you about me?"

"She says that you are a slave to your baser lusts.  That even in your exile, you made your way to brothels and houses of ill repute."

Ludmilla smiled.  "Your Mistress is a shallow pool, and can only reflect the surface of others.  She does not see the depths, and does not want to."

"Do you say that Mistress Atris lied about you?"

Ludmilla stopped, and crossed her arms as she regarded the little warmaiden.  "I did work in brothels.  But not the way your Mistress is thinking.  All along the farthest edge of the Outer Rim, I worked, protecting girls and women who had fled from masters and had no other skills.  I made sure their contracts were enforced, that they weren't abused, and did what I could to keep their exploitation to a minimum.  In short, even in my exile, I couldn't stop acting like a damned Jedi – protecting the weak and upholding the law."

The warmaiden gazed at her admiringly.  "I would have enjoyed fighting beside you," she said simply.

Ludmilla raised an eyebrow.  "I thought Echani Handmaidens were supposed to be unflinchingly loyal to their Masters."

The warmaiden blushed.  "I am the least of the Handmaidens that serve Mistress Atris.  I am … easily distracted from my training."

"You don't look exactly like the others.  Aren't all Echani siblings supposed to be identical?"

The warmaiden's eyes fell.  "I bear the face of my mother," she confessed.

"Oh, you don't all have the same mother," Ludmilla mused.  "Oh!  I think I know who you are.  If you're the daughter of General Yusanis, then I knew your father."

"Indeed?" said the little warmaiden, suddenly nervous.

"He was in charge of the Third Fleet, a masterful strategist.  He still owes me a fight."

The little warmaiden smiled slowly.  Ludmilla imagined that her life hadn't been easy.  "He cannot repay you, I'm afraid.  He died in battle while you were gone."

"A warrior's death, I hope."

"He was killed in a duel with the Sith Lord Revan."

Ludmilla flushed, then suddenly grinned.  "That must have been a good fight."

The little warmaiden looked at her in surprise.

"What?  I can't change the past.  But I do know that two great blade warriors like Yusanis and Revan fighting would have been a sight to see."

The little warmaiden didn't answer, and they continued towards the holding cells.  "May I ask you a question?" she asked nervously.

"Certainly."

"You have touched the Force, have you not?  What does it feel like?"

Ludmilla looked at her again, and realized that she was going to make a terrible warmaiden.  But she would make an excellent Jedi, if someone other than Atris trained her.  "Have you ever kissed someone you love?"

The warmaiden blushed furiously.

"Then you already know."  Ludmilla walked down the next hall, and saw a sparring room where the other five Handmaidens were practicing.  One of them threw a scornful glance at their younger half-sister.  Ludmilla mentally flipped a coin, then entered the room.  "You are all Atris has to protect her?  The six of you?"

"We serve her, Mandalorian.  We are more than enough."  She was cold and proud, the perfect Echani and the perfect complement for Atris.

"Did she tell you to call me that?"

"She told us many things about you."

"Have you ever even seen a Mandalorian?  Have you ever fought one?"

"We know how to fight.  What we fight isn't important."

"You're an idiot, and a child.  Fine, you want to know what it's like to fight a Mandalorian?"  Ludmilla pulled off her armor and tossed it aside.  "Let's go, little lollipop.  On the mat."

The warmaiden seemed surprised by her challenge, but was too proud to even consider refusing.  "You know Echani ways."

"Mandalorians always know their enemies.  They take what makes them stronger, they discard what makes them weak."  Ludmilla waited until the warmaiden was ready.  "What rules do you want, child?"

"No weapons, no Force powers.  Let this be a true test."

Ludmilla was perfectly capable of fighting with grace and speed.  She could have struck the warmaiden's critical points, crippling her for the bout.  But they needed to learn what it felt like to be beaten by a Mandalorian.  "Chaste and clean, Echani queen."  She delivered a brutal blow to the warmaiden's stomach.  "Arm in a sling, Echani king."  The warmaiden scrambled back to her feet, fast and light.  She threw a barehanded blow that would have dislocated Ludmilla's shoulder, if it had landed.  Instead, Ludmilla grabbed her arm, and threw her over her head to the floor.  "Blood on the floor, Echani whore."  The warmaiden got to her feet again, but wasn't able to block the savage punch that Ludmilla threw at her face, and she fell to the mat, stunned and still.  Ludmilla shook out her hand, stretched.  "A good warm-up.  Who's next?"

Two of the warmaidens pulled the fallen one from the mat, and the next warmaiden stepped up to the mat.  Ludmilla stretched and flexed, casually waiting for the warmaiden to start fighting.

"Are you ready?" asked the warmaiden in confusion.

"I'm on the mat, aren't I?"  The warmaiden sprang forward, hoping to catch her off-guard.  Ludmilla blocked her blow as if it had been thrown by a kitten.  She crossed her arms and waited for the warmaiden to try again.  Fast as she was, Ludmilla stepped out of the way with humiliating ease.  The warmaiden retreated a few steps, trying to figure out what to do next.  Ludmilla sighed.  "Attack.  You're not out here to play.  You're out here to learn a lesson."

The warmaiden bounced forward, and threw a lightning fast punch.  Ludmilla didn't bother to dodge this one.  The blow would have landed solidly, but she turned her head to roll with the blow.  "Time to learn why the Echani fighting style depends on speed."  She grabbed the warmaiden's shoulders before she could retreat out of range, and pulled the Echani's body down to meet her rising knee.  The warmaiden made the characteristic sound of someone having all the wind knocked out of them, and Ludmilla delivered two more punishing blows, one to the body and one to her head.  The warmaiden fell to the mat.  "Because you lack strength."

They pulled the second warmaiden from the mat, and Ludmilla looked around the room.  "Where is your little sister?"

"She should be training.  Her presence weakens us."

Ludmilla shrugged.  "Your grasp of tactics is amazingly poor."  She beckoned to the remaining three.  "All of you at once," she commanded.  "Wow, that sounds like something Atris would say."

The warmaiden frowned.  "You will not speak disrespectfully of our Mistress."

"Come and stop me, child of an Oathbreaker."  They hadn't been taught the most valuable skill of the Mandalorians.  Echani fight duels, respectful and lawful.  Mandalorians choose their battles, and know how to goad an enemy into attacking without thinking.  Mandalorians fight to win.  The three warmaidens charged her, working together flawlessly.  They were expecting her to continue her fierce, brutal style.  They knew nothing of Mandalorians.  "Echani maids, Echani braves," she sang as she dodged with the speed that had shocked Yusanis the first time they had sparred.  Ludmilla broke out of their circle, and engaged the one who had answered her, the apex of their triangle.  "Echani sluts, Echani slaves."  She blocked her, then dropped her quickly with a stunning kick to the midsection.  She was down, but not out.  While their leader was down, she went after the youngest and weakest warmaiden.  Echani tradition teaches that children should learn according to their age, and they will deliberately hold back a prodigy rather than shame an elder.  "Golden blades and silver hair, shattered shields and sundered pair."  A sweeping kick dropped the youngest warmaiden, and she followed her to the mat with a blow to the throat that left her out cold.  "'Faith and blood,' Echani swear, rags and sores Echani wear!"  The first one had gotten up again, and the two remaining warmaidens were attacking her together.  Ludmilla blocked their attacks, watching and waiting for her chance while she sang.  "Woe to those who falter in Mandalore's sight!  Woe to those conquered by Mandalore's might!"  They had moved close together, and she pounced, lifting them both in her arms, and she slammed their heads together before setting them down again.  It was enough, and the warmaidens staggered, then sank together to the mat.

She pulled her armor back on, and walked over to the eldest, shook her awake.  "You want to protect your Mistress?  Learn to win battles."  She dropped the half-stunned warmaiden back to the bench where she had been trying to recover.  "And remember that your weakness can also be your strength when used properly."  She walked past the youngest warmaiden without acknowledging her and went to go find her companions.

She saw the holding cells and rushed forward.  "Atton!"  She turned off the force cages, and cradled him in her arms.

"He is unharmed," Kreia said calmly.  "But it is true, he would be better tended in a medical bay than the floor of a force cage.  He is still suffering the ill effects of our last crash."

Atton stirred slightly, but made no move to get up when he realized that he was in Ludmilla's arms.  "Mmm… I'd know those breasts anywhere."

"Did you find what you were looking for, child?"

Ludmilla looked down at the man in her arms.  "Yes."

"Then we should leave this place before your clothes fall off again."  Kreia looked around.  "This place disturbs me.  A Jedi Temple with no Jedi.  An academy with no students.  It is like walking the halls of the dead."

Ludmilla looked up.  "There is a Jedi here.  Atris, one of the Council."

"Yes, I sense a Jedi here.  But no students, and this Atris surrounds herself with those who are blind to the Force."

Ludmilla helped Atton to his feet.  "How did you know that her Handmaidens are Force-blind?"  She looked curiously at Kreia, while Atton recovered their weapons from a nearby locker.  "Were you reading their minds?"

"Invade the mind of another?" said Kreia.  "Such a thing should not be done carelessly, or when there is nothing to be gained.  Such disciplines as this woman teaches her Handmaidens would blind even a Force-sensitive person.  It is dangerous to practice, and adds little security.  One Jedi would take down all of her little white dolls like so many kittens."

Ludmilla shook her head.  She should have known better than to ask Kreia a direct question.  "Let's get Bao-Dur and get out of here."


	10. Halo in his Hands

T3 burbled happily about being rescued as they headed for the ship.

"Don't lie," said Atton.  "I know you were out joyriding."

T3 protested, but Atton continued to accuse the little droid.

"No, I know what you droids are like.  The instant there are no organics around, you're off trading data and stealing ships."

T3 was silent.

"Ha!  I knew it!  Did you get anything good from her mainframe?  Naked pictures of all the little Warmaidens?"

"You are detestable!" Kreia exclaimed.

"What happened to all the white haired bunnies anyway?"

Ludmilla helped Bao-Dur on the ship.  "Let's get out of here."

"Before they recover from their beating?" suggested Kreia.

"How did you know I fought them?"

"I know you well enough by now to realize that you would never have passed up a chance to pull off your clothing."

"What?  You fought them Echani style?  Tell me you got a recording," Atton pleaded with T3, who scooted away.  "Oh come on!"  He chased after the droid, and Kreia helped Ludmilla bring Bao-Dur to the medical bay.

"He seems to have recovered," Ludmilla smiled.

"The thought of your naked form does that to him," said Kreia acidly.  "I will tend to the alien.  Go tell the fool to get us out of here before our hosts change their minds."

Ludmilla went to the bridge, where Atton was having a one-sided argument with T3 about naked pictures.  "Let's go somewhere nice."

"We don't have navigation charts to anywhere nice.  How about Nar Shadaa?"

"Well, there's no Atris there, so it's got to be better than here.  Let's go."

Atton grinned, and the Ebon Hawk soared into space.

Ludmilla sat down on the floor and started checking over T3.  "You know, Bao-Dur is a lot better at this than I am.  Have you met his Remote?"

T3 beeped.

"Yeah, the little guy is weird sometimes."

"I'm sorry," Atton broke in, "but are you having a conversation with a droid about another droid, and calling the droid weird?"

"Yes," she grinned, "why do you ask?"

"Because your boobs aren't distracting me.  Hint, hint."

Ludmilla laughed.  "I'll be right back, I need some tools."  She headed to the garage, and came back to find Bao-Dur and Atton leaning over T3.  "Hey, old man, you're up!  How are you feeling?"  She looked down at the hologram that T3 was displaying.

"Doing fine, General.  Not as fine as you.  Oh, she walked right into that one," he chuckled as the hologram replayed Ludmilla's lesson to the Echani warmaidens.

Ludmilla tried to frown at them.  "T3, don't you have anything more interesting?"

T3 chirped, and the hologram stopped, much to Atton's disappointment.

"That was awesome, by the way," Atton grinned.

"Typical that Atris wouldn't even bother to show up," said Bao-Dur.  "I had no idea she was on the planet.  She's ruined Telos for me.  I liked Telos."

"So, who is Atris exactly?  And why doesn't anybody like her?"

"That's not true," grinned Ludmilla.  "Atris likes Atris a lot!  She was on the Jedi Council, and she wanted to have me put in prison rather than exiled, which is why Bao-Dur doesn't like her."

"Which one was Atris?" asked Atton curiously.

"Human woman, beautiful.  Long white hair, soft blue eyes, a perfect little moon face."  Ludmilla paused for a moment before she continued.  "I had a terrible crush on her when I was in training.  I wanted to be a Jedi Knight just so I could rescue her from dragons, like in all the stories.  Very childish, now that I think about it.  But it did give me something to aim for."

"Oh.  So you liked her."

"Well….  That was the outside.  On the inside, she was a self-centered, cold-hearted bitch who thought that the Jedi Order could do no wrong, and that just being a Jedi made you superior to other people."

"Ouch.  That doesn't sound like the dream survived contact with reality."

"You have no idea."  Ludmilla sat down and started working on T3, as did Bao-Dur.  "Also, she smells funny.  Serious crush killer."

"What?" Atton laughed.

"She's part Echani," she explained, "way, way back in her ancestry.  She doesn't smell like a Human, she doesn't smell like an Echani, and she just doesn't smell right."

"She probably doesn't taste very good either."

"Oh, don't make me think about it," Ludmilla made a face.

"I taste good, right?"

"Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"I'm still hurt because you yelled at me," said Atton in a wounded voice, and made a very convincing sad face.

"I think I'll head to the garage.  Come find me if you need me, General."  Bao-Dur left the bridge.

Ludmilla laughed at her old friend before she stood and leaned over to kiss Atton.  "You always taste like sugar," she whispered.  "And you taste like I should taste you again."

"I think you should go with your instincts on that one," whispered Atton, and pulled her to him for another kiss.

"Both of you have a room.  Pick one and go to it."

"You are going to give me a heart attack, old woman.  Knock or something."

Kreia glared at him.  "If you want privacy, may I suggest restraining yourselves until you are in private?"  She looked at the navigation computer.  "Where are we going?"

"Nar Shadaa, if it please your highness."

Even beneath the hood, Atton could feel the anger in her gaze.  "You are trying to anger me, fool.  Stop."

"You know, I never checked all those boxes."

"What boxes?" Kreia looked suspiciously at Atton.

He smiled as the ship's navigation systems took over.  "The ones I stole from what's-her-face's kitchens."  He stood up and slid past Kreia and Ludmilla, pausing for a semi-surreptitious kiss on Ludmilla's cheek.  "The first couple had fresh herbs in stasis!  And Armeli sugar.  After that I stopped looking and just took everything.  I'll be in the galley."

Kreia couldn't help herself, and laughed at the thought of Atris' rage when she discovered that her food stores had been raided.

Ludmilla smiled after him.  "Well, he isn't boring."

"Do you truly trust him, child?"

"I have no reason not to," said Ludmilla.  "Do you know a reason that I shouldn't?"

"It is not my place to find such things," said Kreia sharply.  "You are the leader of this little group, and it is your responsibility to safeguard your life against treachery."

"I think you're going a little far, Kreia," she said mildly.  "He's laandur, a pretty toy – not a warrior.  He'd make a great wife," she said dryly.  "So long as he remembers to let me do the hunting."

"Do not underestimate your power over him.  The fool dances in your shadow for your favor."

"And he has it."

"But nothing more?"

Ludmilla looked down, her lips set in a hard line.  "I have nothing more to give."  She turned and left Kreia alone on the bridge.

Kreia smiled softly to herself.  "Poor child.  Ah, well, wisdom is best earned, not given."  She walked back to her quarters.

Ludmilla walked slowly to the garage, and found Bao-Dur with a large section of the wall removed and working on the exposed wiring of the Ebon Hawk.  "What are you up to, old man?"

He grinned.  "Just messing with the shields.  Am I going crazy, or did I smell Zabraki spice-rings when I walked past the galley?"

"You're not crazy.  He's a really good cook."

"General, why don't you use a lightsaber anymore?"

Ludmilla sighed, and sat down on an empty fuel drum.  "I lost mine.  Besides, I'm not a Jedi anymore, remember?"

"I don't think anyone got that memo except you, General.  You could just build a new one, who would stop you?  We could even mess with the colors."

She grinned.  "I'm doing fine without it."

"General, I know you.  You're just not you without a lightsaber."  Ludmilla looked away, but didn't interrupt him.  "Besides, who wants to be remembered in the stories as the brave Knight who rescued the Peri Prince with a vibroblade she brought from some Rodian merchant for one hundred credits?"

Ludmilla laughed, and shook her head.  "The Peri Prince doesn't even really need rescuing.  This whole thing is probably just going to turn out to be some trap set by Atris so they can lock me away for real this time."

"You really believe that, General?"

Ludmilla didn't answer.

"So what are you going to do when the Grand Krayt Dragon tries to make off with the Peri Prince, General?  Poke it gently with an Echani war sword?"

"What do you want from me, old man?  I don't even have the parts, and there are no enclaves where I can get any.  I can't build a lightsaber from air."

"I know," Bao-Dur said gently.  "But hey, we'll find something.  We always do."  He handed her a lightsaber's emitter matrix.  "They just fall into our laps here and there."  He turned away and picked up the hydrospanner again, apparently absorbed in his work.

Ludmilla turned over the precious part in her hands without speaking, and tried to hold back tears of gratitude.  "How long have you had this, old man?" she asked finally.

Bao-Dur smiled.  "You're welcome, General."

 

"Enough, Atton," said Bao-Dur sharply.  He picked up the young Human by the waist, and moved him out of his way.  "Go, bother the General or something.  Stop bumping into me every five seconds."

Atton laughed, sweet and dark.  "But I'm supposed to be cleaning the kitchen!  I'm just trying to help."  He leaned back against the counter, but Bao-Dur refused to look at him.

"Out."  Bao-Dur turned away and started picking up the plates that Atton had been pretending to clean.  "I'll do the cleaning.  Just leave."

"Well, if you say so," Atton smiled, and raced up the stairs to find Ludmilla.

Ludmilla turned as someone entered the cargo hold.  "Oh, hello, Atton," she said sweetly.  She held out her hand to him, and pulled him into a kiss.  "What brings you here?"

"Well, Bao-Dur was nice enough to clean the kitchen, so I didn't have anything to do, and um… I just wanted to talk to you real quick."

"Talk?" she grinned, and kissed him again.

Atton pulled away from the kiss slowly, reluctantly.  "No, really.  Talk.  I um… I just wanted to thank you.  For being you, and letting me be me."  He looked down before continuing.  "Nar Shadaa is a really ugly place, and I know you're going in to some dangerous stuff.  Whenever you want to leave me behind, that's fine.  I understand.  I just wanted to let you know I appreciate that you even bothered with me at all."

"I don't actually want to leave you behind," she said softly.  "I'm just not sure that it's fair to drag you along with me.  I don't want to get you killed, Atton."

"That would make you the only one," he said wryly.  "I think Kreia would laugh for hours."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "She's even more worried about something happening to you than I am.  I know you don't believe it, but it's true."

"If you say so," he said doubtfully.  "Well, your Iridonian friend will be happy when you get rid of me."

"You're not very good at reading people, are you?" she smiled.  "I've never seen the old man talk so much before.  He likes you, Atton, and he really likes seeing you with me.  I think you won his heart when he heard about the cigarettes.  He's been trying to get me to quit for years."

"Really?  Then why doesn't anyone act like they like me?"

"I like you," said Ludmilla shyly.

"And that makes the least sense of all," said Atton impatiently.  "You could have anybody you wanted!"

"But I want you."  Atton blushed, and Ludmilla couldn't resist anymore.  She pulled him back to her, kissed his lips, his cheeks, his ears, slid her hand beneath his shirt so she could feel his skin.  "I'm sorry, Atton, this isn't a game to me.  This isn't just a story.  I want you, I don't want to give you up."

She felt his lashes brush against her face as he closed his eyes.  "Don't do this to me if you don't mean it.  Please."  She could feel his breathing, swift and scared, and pulled him closer into her arms.

"Oh, Atton," she breathed softly, and drank in the delicate beauty of his face, so unlike her own.  The fine, high cheekbones; the thick, dark hair; the expressive and perfectly shaped mouth.  "I just don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I would rather take a hundred beatings at your hands than a single kiss from anyone else."  The passion, the violence in his voice shocked her, and before she could react, he was kissing her, holding her head in his hands, and kissing her again and again.  A small part of her mind knew that there was a bed somewhere in the room, but to reach it meant that she would have to take her hands away from Atton, stop kissing him, stop touching his warm, soft skin, and that was just unacceptable.  They knelt together on the floor, stripping away their clothes in the dim light of the cargo hold, and then she forced him down to the floor beneath her so that she could taste him, kiss him everywhere.  Unsure, he looked up at her, questioning and nervous.

"Trust me," she said softly, and bent her head down to his body.

He gasped at the first touch of her lips on his chest, moaned wildly as her mouth explored his body.  Ludmilla smiled as she realized that his voice was a map, guiding her to the parts of him were most sensitive.  She kissed the taut, rosy nipples, making him almost scream at the sensation.  She ran her tongue over the sleek muscles of his chest, kissed his shoulders.  He pulled her back to him for a kiss before she could make her way down his arms, and she laughed with joy at his passionate need.  "Why are you laughing?" he gasped.

"I can't decide which one of us wants this more."  She kissed him again, hungrily.  "It's been a long time for you too, hasn't it?"  She shifted so that his body would be more comfortable under her weight.

"Well, since it meant anything," he confessed.  He swallowed nervously, and ran a hand over the exquisite curves of her body.  "I want this, Ludmilla, I really want this.  I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

She thrilled at his words, and he could see it in her face.  He smiled sweetly, the rare little smile that she loved to see, not coarse or mocking, but joyous and sweet and slightly teasing.  She moved her legs so that she was straddling his hips, and his hands could reach her breasts.  She smiled down at him, slid her body back, so that he could enter her.  He moved slowly, carefully, and she moaned softly in pleasure at his touch just as he whimpered slightly at her tightness.  He was sweet and skillful, and moved carefully, learning the curves inside her, the places that made her gasp and growl.  It didn't take long for her slick, tight warmth to make him lose control, and his hands gripped her hips and he cried out, pounding into her.  She gasped in pleasure, leaned back so that he could get as far inside her as possible, just as eager for his release as he was.  He cried out again, and her body quivered and shook as he came, their mingled juices spilling out onto the floor.  Atton gave a soft moan, then collapsed.

Ludmilla smiled with pleasure, and leaned over him, kissing his lovely face until he stirred slightly.  "Come," she whispered, "let's get into bed."

She woke a little while later, her arms and legs curled around him, lying comfortably in the little nest that she had made.  He was gently stroking her face, his graceful and elegant hand touching her hair and her cheek and her lips, his eyes closed, and a sweet half-smile on his face.  He felt her stir, and kissed her, slowly moving his body over hers.  "It didn't feel like you were finished," he murmured.  He ran his hands over legs, gently parting them, and entered her again.  She was still soft and wet, and she gasped, overjoyed that he would think of her needs and actually satisfy them.  She cried out his name, and he kissed her again, her neck, her breasts, the muscles of her arms, moving inside her all the while.  She cried out again, buried her hands in his hair while he kissed her breasts, one after the other, his breath warm and his kisses wet against her skin.  With another wild scream, she wrapped her legs around his slim waist, holding him close, holding him inside her, while she panted and shook and throbbed around him.  He groaned softly, and sank into her arms, his head buried in her breasts.  She made a soft, joyful sound, and pulled him even closer.  He laughed drowsily, and kissed her breasts again.

The next time Ludmilla woke, it was hours later and he was finally pulling away from her.

"I'm all sticky!" Atton whispered, with a slight grin.

She sat up, and licked his shoulder.  "And delicious!  We should go take a shower," she smiled suggestively.

"I like the way you think."  He wrapped one of the sheets around his slender hips, then tossed the top over his shoulder to make a slight concession to modesty.  Ludmilla wrapped one of the sheets casually around herself, just covering her breasts, and somehow managed to look more naked with the sheet on than without.  He grinned, and held out his hand to her, and they snuck out of the cargo hold, through the main cabin, and down to the galley without running into anyone, giggling like children the entire time.  Atton ran into the washroom, while Ludmilla stopped to grab an apple from the table, and took a hearty bite.

"Oh, hey, General," said Bao-Dur casually, as if running into a practically-naked ex-Jedi was an everyday occurrence for him.  "Where's Atton?"  He was halfway down the stairs, and looked around the galley expectantly.

She grinned and gestured to the washroom.  "We were going to take a shower."

"Think you'll be a while?  I'd like to check the soundproofing in the cargo hold."

"There is no soundproofing in the cargo hold."  She looked at Bao-Dur, and he looked back at her.  "Oh, come on.  We weren't that loud."

"Yes you were!" Bao-Dur and Kreia, still at the top of the stairs, shouted together.

Ludmilla blushed and quickly finished her apple before she ran into the washroom to join Atton.


	11. Shattered Halo

They were gathered around the table, looking at the map.  Atton had purchased back Kreia's goodwill with a plate of seven-layer cream and chocolate filled pastries, and Bao-Dur's with insanely spicy Zabraki cider.

"Well, we're almost there," said Atton cheerily.  "The Smuggler's Moon, the gaping maw of Nal Hutta.  Exhibits One through One Hundred Thousand on the list of 'Reasons why Hutts should never be allowed to colonize in your system.'"

"Nar Shadaa," said Kreia grimly.  "All the detritus of the galaxy ends up here.  Unemployed mercenaries, clanless Mandalorians, homeless veterans, wandering refugees, broken Sith, and fallen Jedi.  They all come to the foul embrace of Nar Shadaa when they have nowhere else to go."

"And according to the records T3 stole from Atris," said Bao-Dur, "there's a Jedi Master hiding somewhere in there."

"Zez-Kai Ell," Ludmilla mused.

"Blessings of the Celestials!"  She looked at Atton in surprise.  "What?" he asked.  "I thought you sneezed."

"That's his name."

Kreia snorted, trying to hold back a laugh.

Ludmilla smiled.  "I don't know much about Master Ell.  He was the only member of the Council to ask why.  Not that anyone listened to what I had to say, but at least he asked the question."

"Not much of a recommendation, General."

"It's all I got," she shrugged.  "Anyway, whatever is left of the Council, he's part of it.  Useless as it is.  Maybe he'll be willing to answer some questions so he can ask some of his own."

"I would not depend on it," said Kreia dryly.  "How do you intend to find someone who has stayed hidden for so long?"

Ludmilla shrugged again.

"Nar Shadaa's such a great place for losing yourself," grinned Atton.  "It would take a Wookie to track you by scent, and the stench would drive a Wookie mad.  There are no records to speak of, and any public records that do exist are all available for easy purchase and easier removal.  Oh, we should look into getting the ship's registration changed while we're there.  So people stop finding us and stealing our ship."

"Good idea," said Bao-Dur.  "How much would something like that cost?"

"Oh," said Atton airily, "I know a guy."

"You used to live on Nar Shadaa?" Bao-Dur asked, and Atton nodded.  "I'm surprised you never went there, General.  Too close to the Outer Rim?"

Ludmilla sighed.  "The Hutts paid the Republic enough for a new cruiser to have Nar Shadaa declared part of the Outer Rim in the early part of my exile."

Atton and Kreia looked at her in shock, and Bao-Dur just laughed.

"That was you?" said Atton.  "I remember the Republic going all crazy because Nar Shadaa was officially a part of the Republic."

"What did you do?" asked Kreia curiously.

Ludmilla sighed.  "They just didn't want anyone to interfere with their business practices."

"Interfere," laughed Bao-Dur.  "I can imagine."

"It was some stupid Hutt-run world on the Far Rim, I don't even remember what I did."

"You backed the only honest Hutt in four systems and helped her set up a representative democracy," said Atton in shock.  "That was you, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ludmilla lamely.  "That sounds familiar.  Anyway.  Changing the ship's registry would be a good idea.  How are we going to deal with docking?  Are there fees?"

Atton laughed.  "It's Nar Shadaa.  We just find an empty landing pad somewhere in the Refugee Sector and squat on it.  We'll need to leave someone with the ship, though.  I suggest someone old and respectable," said Atton cheerfully.  "Nobody would harm an old woman."

"I'll stay, General.  I'm still feeling kind of slow from Telos."

"We shall both stay," said Kreia.  "Take the machine with you."

"Are you sure?" asked Ludmilla uncertainly.

"I will never be far from you, child," Kreia smiled softly.  "If you need my insight, you have only to ask."

"We have the commlink, too," said Bao-Dur.  "In case we need to get the ship ready for a fast getaway."

"And I am not certain how well I would be able to deal with the fool in his own element," Kreia snapped.  "Be sure that he does not try to gamble you away in a pazaak game."

"Hey!  I would never lose her in a pazaak game."

"Atton," said Bao-Dur calmly, "I notice you didn't say wouldn't bet her in a pazaak game."

"Oh, hey, we're almost at Nar Shadaa.  I'd better get to the bridge," said Atton, and beat a fast retreat.

Ludmilla watched him leave, laughing to herself.

Bao-Dur shook his head, and went to refill his mug of cider.

Atton landed the Ebon Hawk on an empty and apparently abandoned pad.

"Well done, boy," said Kreia with a wicked smile.  "I was half-expecting to be shot down again."

"Oh, that only happens in shuttles," Atton assured her, and they all left the ship to get some fresh air.

"Oh, that is some stench," said Bao-Dur.

"I'd forgotten how bad this place smelled."

Ludmilla checked her weapons and armor.  "Old man, can you get some traps down?  I don't want gizka on the ship."

"Oh, if you kill any, don't throw the bodies away," said Atton.  "The Hutts will always buy gizka, alive or dead, poisoned or crushed.  This is why I don't cook for Hutts.  How can I compare to the rancid taste of poisoned gizka?"

Kreia shook her head in disgust.  "Never speak of that again."

"So, where should we start looking?" Ludmilla asked.  "Any suggestions?"

"It matters little where you intend to go, child.  You will be drawn to that which you seek, whether you wish it or not.  Just as things are drawn to you," she said, gesturing at an alien charging up to them, its wings fluttering wildly.

"What do you mean by landing this rust heap on my landing pad?"

"Your landing pad?" said Atton innocently.

Ludmilla looked away so she wouldn't laugh.

"Yes, my landing pad!" the alien raged.

"Oh," said Atton innocently, "it's just that I thought all these pads belonged to the Hutts, and that people paid for the right to collect docking fees.  But that's not the same thing as it being 'your' landing pad, now is it?"

"Yes," said the alien, a little uncertain now.  "I pay my fees to Grigga, and I run this pad."

"Well, yes, but see, I have this pad," Atton held up a datapad, "that has Grigga's stamp and says that I can land on any of his landing pads, anytime I want to, without paying."

"What?" squealed the little alien, his wings flapping even faster than before.  "Let me see that!"

Atton laughed, mocking and cruel.  "I don't think so.  We all know how liable valuable things like this are to disappear, or fall, and then where would I be?  I'd have no way to prove to Grigga's enforcers that I was within my rights.  What?  You seriously think I'd lie and pretend to know someone like Grigga just to avoid paying you a few measly credits?"  Atton waved his hand in dismissal.  "Go away.  We're not staying that long anyway."

"Well, no, of course, it's just that, I have some … friends coming to visit, and I hate to inconvenience a friend of the Hutts, but I told them they could land here and I'm not sure how that's going to work out now."

"It'll be fine," Atton smiled.  "If we're not gone by the time your 'friends' show up, we'll explain the whole situation to them.  Don't worry."

"Right."  The alien looked at them.  The woman, tall and muscled like a Mandalorian out of battle armor; the smooth talker with the pair of blasters; the Iridonian who hadn't even bothered to look up from his work of laying grenades and poison around the perimeter of the ship; and worst of all, the old woman in brown robes.  "Right.  I'll just leave you to that."  The alien fluttered away.

"Atton," asked Bao-Dur, "did anything that you just said have any relation to the truth?"

Atton grinned brightly.  "I was telling the truth!  I have a datapad."

Bao-Dur just shook his head, and Kreia retreated to the ship so that he wouldn't see her laughing.

"C'mon, T3, let's leave these boring people and hit the town!  If you like, I can hook you up with a hot mainframe, full of data!"

"Atton!" Bao-Dur said sharply.  "Do not get the General mixed up in any wild schemes."

"What?" said Atton innocently.  "I was just thinking that T3 might want to have some fun while we're out drinking."

"No drinking.  No gambling."

"It's Nar Shadaa!" Atton protested.  "You just wiped out 75% of the available pastimes here, and I can't afford the slave market."

Ludmilla pulled Atton away.  "We'll be fine, old man.  Stop worrying.  And stop pestering him, Atton."

"No, really, what am I supposed to do if I can't drink or gamble?  I already have a woman.  Unless you want to pick up a hot Twi'lek or two."

Ludmilla laughed, and put her arm around Atton's waist as they walked away from the ship.

 

"I hate this place," snarled Ludmilla, and dusted off her hands.

Bao-Dur walked around the corner to catch up with her.  "Congratulations, General.  You actually made it farther than I thought you would without starting a fight."

"I didn't start the fight!" she protested, and Atton nearly fell over laughing, supporting himself on T3.  "You be quiet."

"General, please.  This place is crawling with Exchange, bounty hunters, and broken Sith.  Try not to attract attention."

Ludmilla grumbled to herself, and Atton kept laughing, unable to speak.  "Will you stop that," she hissed.  "You're going to start hyperventilating."

Atton tried to stop laughing, but couldn't, and Ludmilla grabbed him before he fell over.

Bao-Dur shook his head.  "I'm heading back to the ship.  Try to make it out of sight this time, General."

Atton rested his head on her shoulder, with his arms around her, trying to calm down.

She waited until Bao-Dur was gone before she looked down at him.  "Why are you so nervous, Atton?"

He didn't look up before answering.  "I forgot how much I hate this place.  It's a cesspool of guilt and failure, built on misery.  The only way to get it clean would be to burn the whole thing down to the ground."

Ludmilla put her arms around him, and held him close.  "I can feel the life of this moon, almost choked beneath all the struggles and the sorrow.  But it's still there.  If you burned it all down, flowers would grow on the rubble."  She smiled.  "I'm not sure that it wouldn't be an improvement.  We'd need to get all the people off the planet first."

Atton kissed her cheek.  "Of course you would."

She pulled his head up to her, and kissed his lips.  He was sweet as always, soft and slightly nervous at being kissed here in full view of anyone who cared to watch.

"Why do you like me?" he whispered desperately, before he could stop himself.  "Really, why?"

Ludmilla sensed an emotional minefield beneath the question, and kissed his lips quickly before she spoke, forcing him to center on her presence.  "When I was younger, I thought I wanted someone equal to me, someone who could keep up.  Someone who would fight with me.  But I'm terrible at following, I'm terrible at sharing.  I always push out to the front.  I lead, and I expect people to follow me or tell me what I'm doing wrong.  I need someone to lean on me.  I need someone to protect.  And I want someone who is good to look at."  She smiled at him.  "I think you fit all of that.  You're very good to look at, Atton."

He smiled, still slightly nervous, kissed her again.  She held him to her, ran her fingers through his soft, dark hair, kissed him again and again.

"General!  This isn't the time!"

Ludmilla pulled away in surprise, and looked over at Bao-Dur.  "I thought you were going back to the ship."

"I thought you were going to continue with your mission."

"What?" she said innocently.  "I thought you said to make out.  Oh wait, I missed a word."  She grinned, and took Atton's hand.  "Let's go before he starts shooting."

Atton laughed, his equilibrium restored.  "I left you a full pot of cider in the cold storage, by the way."

They walked through the quad, Atton taking her at her word and leaning on her.  She knew she should tell him to stop, but her heart was singing at the feel of his body on hers, her soul rejoicing at their arms linked around each other.

"You're so cute," she whispered.

"You can't call a guy cute," he protested, in the most adorable way.

"You're a baby compared to me," she grinned.  "I can call you cute if I want to."

He looked at her in surprise.  "Wait, how old are you anyway?  You cradle robber!"

She broke into quiet laughter, and hugged him closer.  They continued walking around the quad, shopping, righting the occasional wrong, talking to random people.  T3 burbled happily along behind them, zapping any random vermin that got too close.

Ludmilla looked curiously at one of the stalls, selling salvaged items.  Part of her mind had been wondering why she had come to this world of pain and misery.  The rest of her mind had been patiently waiting for the Force to show itself.  She saw it here, a small thing, a small part of why she had been led to this place where so many of her fellow warriors had come to lie down and give up the fight.

"How much?" she pointed to the roughly tied bundle, of dark blue cloth that looked almost black in the dim half-light of Nar Shadaa.  The merchant chattered away, naming a price well beyond her meager means.

"That's crazy!" snapped Atton.  He didn't know why she wanted it; she did, and that was enough for him.  He argued, bickering, bargaining, almost threatening.  A slight pressure on his hand warned him when he was approaching the line that she would not cross, but the merchant had already had enough.  It was a bloodstained bundle of garbage that nobody wanted, and he finally named a price that Atton was willing to pay.  "You should be paying us," he grumbled as he picked up the bundle and handed it to her.  "Here you go!"

She smiled at him.  "I like watching you talk.  You're really good at it."

Atton smiled happily.  "So, what's in there anyway?"

"Do you know if there's a workbench around here anywhere?  Or do we have to go back to the ship?"

"Tubb's place has a workbench, just up here."  He led her to the old Sullustan's shop.  "Hey!  Deaf and blind guy!  We're gonna use your workbench.  He's deaf, and blind, but his droids do all the work anyway."  T3 zipped off to meet the other droids in the shop, and Atton watched her curiously as she unwrapped the bundle, revealing neatly stacked pieces of light armor, and another wrapped bundle.  "What is that – oh hey, you really are allergic to your clothing, aren't you?" he asked as she began pulling off the mercenary armor that she had been wearing.

Ludmilla laughed.  "I'm changing.  Have you ever heard of the Zeison Sha?"

Atton shook his head, and watched her pull on the kinothestic base layer, then strap on the light, flexible plates.  "It's blue."

She grinned as she adjusted the cloak.  "They're a splinter group of Force users.  The story is long and quite disturbing actually, but I'm not going into it now.  The important part is that they prefer to solve their problems directly, and almost all of them are Force users.  Their armor," she adjusted the fit of her newly salvaged gear, "is designed to allow free movement and use of the Force, as well as being defensive.  Unlike traditional Jedi robes."  She bent over to show off the flexibility of the armor she had found, and did a handstand, before jumping back to her feet with a happy grin.  "I've always wanted a set!"

She looked down at the second, smaller bundle.  "And it seems that I'm meant to walk the same path as the original owner of this armor."  She opened it, revealing a cracked and battered metal cylinder.  "I wonder how long this has been sitting here."  She cracked it open.

"Is that … a lightsaber?"

Ludmilla nodded.

"It's broken," Atton said, not sure how to feel.  "Half of it is missing."

"Yes.  Two of the internal parts are missing, but…."  She rummaged in her bag, and pulled out the emitter that Bao-Dur had given her, and a plain blue focusing crystal.  "This was my first crystal.  I upgraded my lightsaber hundreds of times, but I never threw this crystal away.  It's just a basic, blue crystal.  The traditional color of guardians."  She laid out all four parts, and looked over the casing.

"So you have all the parts except the thing to hold them in?"

"Mostly.  I'd need some electronics and wires, too."  She sighed as she realized that this wasn't going to work, and that she'd need to find a better casing to complete the new lightsaber.

"Well, Tubbs has a lot of electronic salvage.  Hold on, let me check his stores."  Before she could stop him, Atton ran off and started rummaging in some of the boxes.  He came back in a few minutes, holding some random odds and ends.  "Will any of this help?  There's a cylinder thing, and some wires, and stuff."

Ludmilla smiled, and started going through the pile.  She stopped.  "Where did you find this?"  She held up the black metal cylinder.

Atton turned and pointed at a box.  "Over there.  I think that's Tubbs' property.  It's a box, it's Nar Shadaa, you open it and it's yours.  There were also some other weapons in there, I took those too," he held out a blaster.  "And there was a datapad, but it's all cracked.  Like cracked in half.  So, what is it?  Is it helpful?" he asked hopefully.

She almost didn't notice that he was deliberately trying to distract her.  Almost.  "It's the casing from a Sith lightsaber.  Looks like it was gutted years ago, though, there's nothing left but the crystal."  She bent over the workbench, cracking open the casing and removing the red crystal.  She carefully set the crystal aside, looked over some of the other parts, and began to work.

"Why are you keeping the red one?"

"To make custom colors," she grinned.  "It's a trick Revan taught me, but you need a hyperdrive and lots of extra crystals to make it work.  You burn through them fast."

"Oh."  Atton watched her.  An exiled Jedi who wore armor instead of robes, building a lightsaber from the salvage of long-dead Sith.

She used pieces from the casing that she had found hidden in the armor to make the handle look less menacing, as far as a weapon like a lightsaber could be made to look less menacing.

Ludmilla tested the weight and balance of the completed handle.  It had turned out much better than she had expected.  "It's a lot better than the first lightsaber I ever built."  She spun the handle in her hand, tossed it into the air and caught it again.

"You haven't turned it on yet," said Atton in confusion.

"I know my work," Ludmilla grinned, and activated the blade.  It shimmered solid blue, basic and plain, yet with unmistakable power.  The characteristic hum of a lightsaber filled the room, and finally attracted the attention of the shop's owner, deaf as he was.

"Who's there?" said the Sullustan, and started walking around the corner, but tripped over some droid parts lying on the floor.

Atton forced himself to stop staring at her, and ran up to explain to Tubbs, while he helped him up.  Ludmilla turned off the lightsaber, and followed.  "And you did say we could use your workbench anytime," smiled Atton as he spoke loudly and slowly to the Sullustan.

"That's true," said the Sullustan.  "It was nice of you to stop by, Atton.  Let me know if you need anything."  Atton helped the old alien sit down again at his table, and the Sullustan went back to working on an old memory core.

Atton shook his head, and held a finger to his lips to prevent Ludmilla from speaking.  He led her away, around the corner again.  "He's old, and kind of senile.  But really nice!"  He looked over at the workbench, where her old armor was lying in a neat pile with the vibroblade that she had been using on top.  "Did you still want any of that stuff?"

"No," said Ludmilla calmly.  She took Atton's hand again.  "I have everything I need."

Atton blushed.  "Oh.  Well, yeah.  His droids will just take all that then, you can just leave it there.  Hey!  Rust bucket!  We're leaving!"

T3 beeped in protest.

"Don't call me names!  Fine, whatever, let's go."  Atton smiled at Ludmilla, and they walked out of the shop back to the quad, her new lightsaber hanging at her hip.

It was a little different now.  She wasn't just another mercenary in battered armor who was oddly nice to people.  She walked the same, said the same words.  But the people of Nar Shadaa looked at her differently now.  Some with grudging respect.  Some with fear.  And some, with hope.

But of all of the eyes in the marketplace, there was one set that weren't looking at her.  And that was the gaze that she feared most.

"What are you looking at?" Ludmilla demanded.

His eyes, barely visible beneath a filthy black hood, were locked on Atton.

"He reminds me of someone I used to know," he said, his voice a deep growl.

A Human.  A broken Sith, someone who knew the line that he could not cross, just as a fallen Jedi had taken one step on the path and could go no further.  His yellow eyes drank in Atton's calm, mocking smile, and he stood unnaturally still, his hands folded under his dark robes.

"Really?  Let me guess, he owed you money?" said Atton cheerfully.

The broken Sith shook his head.  "He was beautiful in ways that you are not.  Imperious and indolent."  He looked at Ludmilla now, carefully examining her.

"How flattering," said Atton calmly.  "Did you want something?  Credits?"

The man growled, and glared at Atton.  "I am no beggar," he hissed.  He turned to look at Ludmilla again.  "Where did you find him?"

"It doesn't matter," said Ludmilla, trying to keep herself calm.

The man looked back at Atton, his eyes hungry and devouring, and it was all Ludmilla could do not to punch the broken Sith in the face.  "I loved someone like you, once.  He left me."

"I'm sorry to hear you broke up," said Atton calmly, "but maybe you should think about moving on with your life?"

"We did not break up," the man snarled.  "He broke me, and when I had nothing left to offer, no new suffering to amuse him, he left me."

"And you just stayed here, waiting?" said Ludmilla.  "It never occurred to you to go after him?  You call that love?"

The broken Sith glared at her, and she saw a dangerous light in his yellow eyes for a moment, then it faded again.  "There are things that keep me tied to this place."  He looked away from her, and didn't look at Atton again.

Ludmilla stepped forward, and grabbed his cloak, lifted him into the air.  She gave him a little shake.  "If you're not willing to chase what you love, then maybe you should let it go."  She dropped him, and the broken Sith caught himself before he fell.  She waited to see what he would do, and the man turned in a swirl of ragged black and retreated farther into Nar Shadaa.

"What was that all about?" asked Atton, and T3 beeped in confusion.

She looked at Atton, but didn't feel calm enough to talk.  "Not right now, Atton.  Let's just go."  Ludmilla almost stalked off, but was stopped by a slender, graceful hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Wait for me," pleaded Atton.

She smiled a little, and pulled him closer for a swift embrace.  He kissed her cheek, a quick little kiss, but it was enough to center her again.  "Remind me to ask you a question later."

"What if I forget?" grinned Atton, nervous and sweet.

"You'll remember," said Ludmilla calmly, and kissed his face.  She felt his eyelashes on her skin again, as he closed his eyes.  She kissed his lips, trying not to be wild with need, not to be domineering, but it was hard to resist his melting softness, his willing submission to her strength.

"You're the ones!" said a churlish voice behind them, and Ludmilla pulled away to see a questionably sober man in rags.  "You're the ones who came in on that ship.  My ship!"

"What?" said Ludmilla in surprise.

"That's my ship!" he repeated.  "It was stolen from me.  The Ebon Hawk," he rattled off the ship's registry key, and Ludmilla and Atton looked at each other.

"We really need to get the registration changed," whispered Atton.

"Sir, do you have any proof of what you say?" Ludmilla asked politely.  She let Atton go, and turned to face the drunken pilot.

"I do!  Right here.  I've got the original registration papers, my purchase agreement, and the police report from when my ship was stolen!"

"What?  It's our ship!  Or, your ship.  That I fly."

Ludmilla frowned.  "Actually, it's not.  Look, sir, if you could meet us at the ship in a few minutes, we can discuss this in private."

"What?" Atton stared at her.  "What are you doing?  We'll be stranded on this miserable rock if we give him our ship."

"Well," blustered the drunken pilot, "I'm sure we can come to some agreement.  I'm glad you're not going to make a fuss over this.  I'll just meet you there."  He staggered away, towards the landing pad.  "Get used to the feel of solid ground beneath your feet," he sneered.

"I could shoot him in the back," suggested Atton.  "No one would ever know!"

"That's not really necessary, Atton.  I'm sure we can figure this out.  Let's finish our shopping and get back to the ship."

"What else did you need to buy?" asked Atton curiously.  "I would think clearing up our ownership status would be more important."

"No, I just have one really important thing to do before I deal with anything else."  She pulled him into her arms, and bent her head to meet his lips, drank in the sweetness of him, felt his pulse flutter in his throat.  She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her body against his, pleased to note that her new armor didn't prevent her from feeling the hardness and softness of his body.

Atton dug his hands into her hair, kissed her back wildly and passionately.  He pulled away from the kiss and buried his face in her neck, sighing softly.  "I like your new armor."


	12. Angel Unseen

They walked back to the ship.  Ludmilla wondered why Bao-Dur hadn't come out to meet her, or more specifically, to yell at her.

Atton looked around curiously as they entered.  "Do you hear something?"

There was a slight hissing noise, and he collapsed.  "Atton!"  Ludmilla knelt at his side.  He was unconscious, and she could smell a faint gas in the hall.  "Who's there?" she called.

No one answered, but she felt a presence, strange and dark.  Ludmilla walked down to the unused portside cabin, and saw the intruder.  "What have you done to my crew?" she demanded.

"They sleep," said the Miraluka gently.  She was slender to the point of starvation, and her veil covered more of her face than Miraluka headcoverings normally did.  "When we have done what we must, they will wake unharmed."

"What do you want with me?"  There was something unusual about this Miraluka.  Among the Jedi Order, the sightless Miraluka were best known for their wisdom and patience.  They were excellent administrators and teachers, but rarely became full-fledged Jedi.

"I was sent to find you.  You are an echo in the Force, a whisper that once heard, cannot be ignored.  We heard that you were weak, barely able to touch the Force, armed with little more than a toy, clad in worn rags, and surrounded by companions blind to your true nature."

Ludmilla snarled, and the Miraluka drew her lightsaber.  It glowed a bitter, angry red, and Ludmilla stared at it in shock.  "You're with the Sith?  I thought Miraluka saw too clearly to fall to the Dark Side."

"I serve one greater than all your Order.  He has made me see."

"Well," said Ludmilla as she drew her own lightsaber, "your Master should see about checking in for updates more regularly."

The Miraluka started in shock.  "You have a lightsaber?  This is… unexpected."

"So, what do you want with me?  Are you here to kill me?"

"I was sent to draw you to his service.  If you will not come, then I will destroy you before he learns of your true potential."

"I serve no one," said Ludmilla firmly, "and I will not walk that path.  How did he draw you to it?  You, a Miraluka, who has seen the life in a seed grow into a flower?  How?"

"Silence," hissed the Miraluka, and attacked.  "You will never understand, not until you see it for yourself."

Their blades clashed, and Ludmilla knew immediately that the Miraluka was no match for her.  "Your Master sent you to your death.  Why?"

The Miraluka shook her head.  "There are more ways to defeat an opponent than with blades."  She threw a wave of Force energy that would have frozen Ludmilla in place, but she dodged the wave with lightning speed.  The Miraluka immediately sent blasts of dark energy at her, sensing Ludmilla's location through the Force.  Ludmilla used her lightsaber to block the blasts, then bounced herself off the wall, doing a complete flip over the Miraluka's head, forcing the Sith to raise her head to track her movements.  In midair, as soon as she could see the Miraluka's throat, she switched her lightsaber off and sent a brutal kick directly at the soft spot in her throat.  The Miraluka staggered backwards, unable to concentrate on her Force attacks.  Ludmilla dropped down beside her, and punched the Miraluka in the stomach.  Never physically strong, the Miraluka collapsed under the blow and fell to the floor.

"You… you have defeated me," coughed the Miraluka.  "I yield to you, and what you are."  She pulled herself up to a kneeling position.

Ludmilla looked at her in irritation.  "Are you all right?  I was trying not to injure you too badly."

The Miraluka shook her head.  "You must slay me.  My life, for yours."

"Must?  Says who?  I'm not going to kill you."  Ludmilla shook her head.  "You're supposed to be a Sith?  Really?"

The Miraluka's shoulders shook, as if she was holding back a sob.  "You must," she insisted.  "I would rather be killed here, now, at your hands, then return and suffer."  The Miraluka sagged, and almost fell to the floor.

"Then don't return," said Ludmilla calmly.  She took away the Miraluka's lightsaber, then lifted her over one shoulder and carried her to the medbay.  "Come on, let's get you patched up."

 

"Is this necessary?" said Kreia angrily as she tended to the wounded Miraluka.  "The seer is of no value to us, and a danger.  Her connection to her Master is no less strong merely because it is unwanted."

"She's still out," observed Atton.  "We could just kill her.  It would be a kindness."

Ludmilla ignored them, and finished stripping the Miraluka's lightsaber.

"Well, we can't just send her back to tell her Master everything that she's learned about the General."

"Something destroyed her colony, leaving her the only survivor.  She had no choice but to join the Sith.  Her heart isn't in it, and she's more scared than anything else."

"You wouldn't have done it," said Atton quietly.

Ludmilla looked at Atton, wondering at his admiration.  "There are four of us and T3, we can keep an eye on her.  But I don't think she's going to try to betray me."  She pushed Atton's hands away from the Miraluka's veil.  "Don't do that, it's not polite."

"Neither is gassing the entire ship and trying to kill you!"

"The seer needs rest.  Leave her."  Kreia shooed everyone out of the medbay.

Atton turned back to look at the Miraluka one last time, his eyes worried and dark.

"What is it?" asked Ludmilla.  "You look upset."

Atton looked at her.  "It's nothing, just…I don't really like competition, and I never knew that before."

"What?  Competition?"  She looked quickly at the medbay, then back at Atton.  "For what?"

"Oh, you know.  Sparing innocents.  Rescuing damsels in distress.  Falling in love.  That sort of thing."

"She's not a damsel in distress!  She tried to kill me!  She's more of a defeated dragon," mused Ludmilla.  She looked at Atton, and smiled at him.  "She's not anywhere in the same class as you.  Also, I just discovered how shallow and superficial I am.  That's rather disturbing."

"What do you mean?"  Atton looked at her curiously.

"It's really shallow," she confessed, and leaned over to whisper in Atton's ear.  "She doesn't have eyes!"  Ludmilla kissed his ear, then pulled away and made a little face.  "Isn't that a horrible thing to think?"

"Yes," smiled Atton happily, and pulled her into a kiss.  "Utterly horrible," he murmured against her lips, and kissed her again.

"General, what are you even doing back at the ship?"

She reluctantly pulled away from Atton.  "Oh, there was this guy…."

"Yeah, that's right, you were going to give our ship away."

"What?"

"I was not," Ludmilla protested.  "We could have worked something out.  The guy said he owned the Ebon Hawk, and that he could prove it."

"Nonsense," said Kreia sharply.  "This ship was given to me by … a friend.  All of the papers are in order."

"Well, he said that it had been stolen just at the end of the Mandalorian wars – "

"Oh," said Kreia in surprise.  "Well.  The ship would have changed hands a few times since then.  Before it came into the ownership of… oh, dear."

"What?" asked Bao-Dur.

"Nothing.  We should meet with this man and discuss this."

"I told him to meet us at the ship.  You guys didn't see him?"  Ludmilla looked around.  "Wait.  How did the Miraluka get on board?"

"She must have deactivated the security," said Atton with a shrug.

Ludmilla shook her head.  "No, that's impossible, Miraluka can't use standard consoles – they don't have eyes.  Someone else must have turned off the security!"  She ran towards the boarding ramp, took one look outside.  "Weapons!  We're under attack!  T3, lock the medbay door!"

"Is it the Sith?" asked Bao-Dur as he got his rifle, and tossed a blaster to Kreia.

"No, it's the thugs who were supposed to be on this landing pad!"  Ludmilla tried to raise the ramp, but the system wasn't responding.  "Atton, T3!  Get to the security room, see if you can figure out what's wrong."

Atton started for the main computer room, and tripped over a body.  It was the man who had claimed to own the Ebon Hawk.  The gas had overcome his system, already ravaged by years of poor health and drinking.  Atton considered quickly, and knelt down to search the body while T3 zipped in and connected to the computer.

T3 beeped at him.  "What?  Oh, you need fingers, do you?  One second."  Atton carried the papers over and helped T3 with the console, overriding the droid lockout that the mercenaries had put on the system.  "And while, we're in here, let's just update this ownership with a few more registered sales, and finally, one to um… Patience Keçrye.  There, that completes the chain and makes Kreia the legal owner.  Now we just need to change the registry numbers."

Atton listened to the blaster fire going on outside.  "We should probably help them, huh?"  Atton checked the scanner, then reactivated the ship's external defenses.  "Fun!"  Explosions and screams erupted from outside, along with the noise of blasters and Ludmilla's lightsaber.  "Do you think we should do anything else?  We could go outside and look."  Atton leaned back against the console and played with the dead man's wallet.  "I hate fighting, though.  You go.  Oh, you don't want to go either, do you?"  T3 chirped in response.  "I know, blaster burns on your clothes are the worst."  The firing stopped.  Atton waved to T3, "Quick!  Look busy."  He bent over the scanner again, and checked the perimeter before turning to leave, and ran right into Ludmilla.  "Oh, hey, I was just coming to find you.  I guess we won?"

"Yes, we did," Ludmilla grinned.  She quickly checked the hallway, and pulled Atton to her for a swift kiss.  "Thanks for getting the defenses back online so quickly."

"Anytime," smiled Atton happily.

"Do you feel like explaining to the guy who runs this pad what happened to his 'friends'?"

"Yeah, that sounds like something I should be doing," grinned Atton.  "I'll go take care of that."  He kissed her one more time, then ran off.

Ludmilla watched him leave with a smile.  She turned to see Kreia stuffing something into the incinerator shaft.  "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up trash," said Kreia.  "Where did you find the parts for a lightsaber?"

Ludmilla grinned, and explained how she found the armor and the damaged lightsaber.  "I could probably make you a lightsaber from the remains of the Miraluka's lightsaber."

"It would certainly be more to my liking than these clumsy blasters or cheap vibroblades.  But it has been years since I have wielded a lightsaber, child.  Perhaps you will need the parts for other purposes."

"I'm a duelist, I never use more than one saber at a time.  And the Miraluka isn't getting a lightsaber until I trust her."

"You are wise in that, at least.  Nevertheless, I have no intention of leaving the ship for the near future.  Perhaps when you return from finding Master Ell we can speak of this again.  We have time."

Ludmilla nodded, and wondered what the old woman was seeing that she didn't.  "Well, I guess we should get back to exploring, and see if we can find out something about Master Ell, or the Exchange."

"You will take the alien with you," commanded Kreia.  "I don't know what I was thinking, permitting you two to wander about with only that scatterbrained machine as a chaperone."

"I don't need a chaperone!"

"You almost gave away our ship!  And I note, your clothes fell off again.  As usual."

"I did not – " Ludmilla snarled in frustration and embarrassment, and turned away to go find Atton and Bao-Dur.  "Why do I ever try arguing with her?" she asked herself as she walked away.

T3 beeped at Kreia.

"Be silent, machine.  I am not interested in your opinion."

T3 chirped again.

"What body?  I saw nothing, machine.  You are mad.  Go about your duties, and do not irritate me more than necessary."  Kreia walked away, her robes swirling gracefully behind her.  "And be sure that the seer remains unconscious until the Exile returns."


	13. Charms and Tokens, pt.3

"Let's check out the Refugee Sector," said Ludmilla.  "We've already been everywhere else."

"We haven't checked out the Cantina," said Atton hopefully.

Bao-Dur just looked at him.

"Why don't any of your friends talk?" Atton asked Ludmilla.  "Why can't you have friends with normal eyes?"

Ludmilla hushed him, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"Oh, hey look at that pile of scrap.  Looks like a busted shield or something."

Bao-Dur turned to look at the pile that Atton had pointed at, and Atton pounced on her for a quick kiss as soon as the Iridonian wasn't looking.

"General.  That's really annoying."

"I didn't do anything!" protested Ludmilla.

"You could stop glowing every time he kisses you," muttered Bao-Dur.

Ludmilla pretended to think about it.  "I'm not sure if it would work.  Here, let me try," she pretended to concentrate.  "Okay, Atton, kiss me and see if I look any different."

Atton obediently pulled her into a kiss, and pulled away to look at her.  "I don't think it worked," he said seriously.  "Should I try again?"

"General.  Stop it."

Ludmilla laughed joyously, and headed to the Refugee Sector of Nar Shadaa.  "I thought the outside was bad," she said softly.  The misery here was almost palpable.  The air stank of fear and unwashed bodies.

A Gamorrean at the door tried to stop her from entering, but Ludmilla didn't have the patience for it.  He was a guard from the Exchange, keeping all these people trapped inside so that they could be picked off and sold into slavery.

"I get the next one, General," said Bao-Dur calmly as she stepped away from the slaver's body.

"Sure thing."  The noise attracted some more Exchange guards, who yelled at the Humans for being too close to the door.  "Well, that was easy."  Ludmilla brushed off her hands while Bao-Dur shot down the guards.

"I really don't like these guys," Bao-Dur said calmly.  "We did all that work to stop the Mandalorians, and for what?"

Ludmilla looked at her old friend.  "See that platform over there?  Where the guards slept?  That would have been an auction hall.  You can see it, can't you?  The room is big enough for people in armor to mill around, watching the slaves on display."  She looked at the adjoining room.  "Junctions for catalog consoles.  They're missing the delivery bay, though.  It's probably on the other side of that wall."

Bao-Dur looked around at the reconfigured slave market.  "You're right," he said slowly.  "I guess we did make a difference, if only a small one."

"It's more than anyone else did.  You shouldn't have left it for the Senate to pick up the pieces," said Atton bitterly.  "They were too busy congratulating themselves, and the Jedi Council was still too lazy to prod them into doing anything.  The only person who cared about the survivors was Revan, and that was only because she needed more bodies for her next war."

Ludmilla didn't answer.  She knew that Atton was one angry sentence away from blaming her for leaving, and she couldn't explain to him why she had abandoned all the men and women who had trusted her to lead them; why she had left Revan to stand or fall on her own instead of staying to support her as she always had.

The next set of rooms was filled with refugees, living out of shipping containers.  They huddled together and stared blankly at her.  She moved around the room, speaking with them as people, not victims.  She tried to infuse some of her own strength into them, tried to show them some path out of their hopelessness.  She knelt by a sick man, pulled down more by malnutrition than disease, and was helping him when she noticed that Bao-Dur and Atton weren't nearby.  Two Twi'leks, nervous but defiant, approached her.

"You are a Jedi," said the elder Twi'lek quickly.  "One of the old ones, not one of the cowardly ones that hid when we needed them."

"I am," she said calmly, and stood to face him.  "How may I help you?"

The elder shook his head.  "This time, the pleeky helps the brave Knight, in memory of all those who have spared this humble rodent.  The Human male that you travel with – he has been on Nar Shadaa before.  He came to the Smuggler's Moon, claiming to be a refugee, but he had many credits, and did not stay here in the Refugee Sector.  He lived in the Cantina, with whatever sentient being caught his eye.  He changed them from week to week, and paid them all well."

"You haven't told me anything about him that I didn't already know," said Ludmilla gently.

"Has he told you what uniform he wore when he came to Nar Shadaa?"

"What?"  Ludmilla met the Twi'lek's eyes, and saw the answer to the question.  "No, I will hear it from his own lips," she said firmly.  She bowed politely, and went to find Atton and Bao-Dur.

She found them fixing an air pump, part of the ventilation system in the Refugee Sector.  Atton was reading off data from a nearby console while Bao-Dur was in his element, repairing the heavy machinery.

"Need any help, old man?"

"I got this, General.  Thanks."

She smiled at her old friend.  "Then can I borrow Atton for a few minutes?"

"Is this a kissing session?" sighed Bao-Dur.

Ludmilla shook her head, and Bao-Dur looked curiously at her.  Atton glanced once at her, and tapped his elegant fingers on the console.

"Data saved," said Atton cheerfully.  His voice didn't sound nervous at all.  "You wanted to talk?"

She smiled at him, and took his hand, leading him out to the empty hall just beyond where the main body of refugees was camped.  They had already taken care of the Exchange guards that used to patrol this corridor.  Ludmilla took a deep breath, unsure where to start.

Atton smiled, half-mocking and dark.  "You ran into someone who knew me, didn't you?  And I'm guessing it wasn't someone who wanted credits.  I suppose you want the whole sordid story?"

Ludmilla watched his eyes.  They were cold, hiding the hurt.  She hated the look on his face.  "Atton, wait.  I'm sorry, you don't deserve this."

"What?" he looked at her in surprise.

"You don't have to tell me anything.  I trust you."

He watched her in stunned silence.  "Are you really that insane?"

Ludmilla laughed nervously.  "I guess I am.  You said… you asked me not to make love to you if I didn't mean it.  And I did.  I trust you.  Whenever you want to tell me, whatever it is, that's fine."  She took one of his hands in hers, and was surprised by how cold they were.

"You can't be this stupid," he said, his voice twisted with anger.  Not at her, but at himself.  "Nobody would…" he choked, unable to speak, and she put her arms around him, trying to calm him.

"Atton, don't be angry with me.  It's not that I don't care, I do.  But I know you, you wouldn't betray me."

He buried his face in her neck, and gave a few wild sobs before he spoke.  "I might abandon you," he said suddenly.  "I've done that before, over and over.  I abandoned my mother on Corellia to go to war.  And I left the Republic to stand with all the other defectors and follow Revan."  He moved away from her, and wiped at his face, not meeting her eyes.

Ludmilla stared at him.  "You fought in the Mandalorian wars?"

Atton nodded.

"You weren't even eighteen when the wars started!"

"What difference does that make?" he snarled.  "Yes, I was a child, but even I had enough sense to realize that we weren't going to win if we didn't stand up and fight!  You knew that!  You know it now!  The Jedi Council sat and watched us burn, they did nothing while cities were turned to glass and worlds were set on fire by the Mandalorians.  They told the rulers of the Core worlds to do the same, and they did because the Jedi are always right, aren't they?  Aren't they?" he raged.

"Oh, Atton," she whispered, filled with grief for the pain that the damaged child had suffered.

"They attacked the docks where the capital ships were being refitted.  I was visiting a cousin who was in the service.  Yes, I was just a kid, and I held them off long enough for everyone to escape.  Me and a half company of common security guards held back four waves of Mandalorians before we collapsed the tunnel on them and ran for our lives.  No Jedi came to help us.  There was one there, he was visiting the King or something.  But he did nothing to help us.  Not even to defend his own life.  He just stood there and let us do all the work, then ran with all the rest.  And then he left, left us, defenseless and half-crippled, to return to Coruscant for orders.  We were nothing to them!  To any of the Jedi, except Revan and her followers.  The ones like you.  That's why I joined her, and stayed with her when she turned to the Dark Side.  Because from the outside, both sides look the same."

Ludmilla shook her head, not sure what to say, how to convince him.  "But, to become a Sith?"

"We didn't care about the name.  We cared about following Revan."  He looked down, drained and shaken by his emotional outburst, and knowing that he hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet.

"I guess that's where we're different.  I believed in Revan.  I think I still do, but I'm not sure anymore.  Too much has changed.  But I would never have taken the name.  I would never have followed her to the Dark Side."

"No," said Atton, trying not to lose control again.  "But you left."

Ludmilla seemed to fade a little.  "Yes," she whispered.  "I left.  I abandoned Revan, and all the people who followed me.  All the ones I didn't kill at Malachor V, anyway."

"Well, that's something we have in common," said Atton with a sudden dark cheerfulness that made her look at him in surprise.  "We've both killed lots of Jedi."

"What?"  Her voice was calm, but her body was tense, stiff.  She didn't want to hear this, but she knew he had to get it out, and she needed to listen.

"Why are you even asking me about this?  Why aren't you just ripping it out of my mind the way Jedi do?" he asked suddenly.

She smiled weakly.  "Because I'm not any good at it.  I get distracted and forget what information I'm supposed to be getting."

"So you've done it before."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "Revan tried to teach me, but decided it was a waste of time.  I can't even be in the same room or I'll mess it up."

Atton looked at her in disbelief.

She laughed a little.  "That's also why I sleep in the cargo hold instead of in the dorms.  I sometimes end up in other people's dreams.  If you ever find yourself floating on a river of chocolate, I apologize in advance."

Atton laughed lightly.  "You're trying to distract me."

"So I am," she sighed.  She didn't look at him for a moment, until he moved away from her.

Atton leaned back against the wall across from her, arms down, one leg bent slightly so that he could draw little circles on the ground with one toe.  He was lean, elegant, lovely.  He didn't look dangerous.  Until he smiled.

"You fought Jedi?  When?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he laughed, sweet and dark.  "Look at me, I can't fight Jedi.  I killed them," he repeated slowly.  He was watching her eyes, and she was watching his, listening to his every word.  Whatever he was looking for in her face, he didn't find it.  He smiled, half-mockingly, and continued.  "You weren't here, so you haven't heard about this before.  Revan wanted Jedi.  She wanted them on her side, or she wanted them dead.  So for the weak ones, the students and the failures and the cowards who wouldn't fight, she sent assassins.  Droids, regular soldiers – it didn't take much for the weak ones.  Grenades, poison, mines – easy stuff.  For the Jedi who were willing to fight, the ones who woke up too late and on the wrong side – that was when she sent the Elites.  They were trained to kill Jedi.  They usually worked in teams.  They were sent a picture and given a location, and they killed whatever and whoever got in their way, until they eliminated their target.  But then there the ones that Revan wanted on her side.  Ones who had a weakness, a crack, something that she could use to bring them over.  Those required something special.  For those Jedi, they needed someone like me."  His smile was a little prideful now, a little boy bragging.

He looked at the wall behind her, his eyes alight with a dark fire that did nothing to detract from his attractiveness.  "We were above the Elites.  We usually worked alone, only called in a team when we were ready to deliver.  We had as much time as we needed, all the money we wanted, and we were allowed to do anything at all so long as we delivered a breathing Jedi at the end."  He looked at her again, then back at the wall.  She was still listening silently, and he still didn't see what he was looking for in her eyes.  "My specialty was seduction.  They nicknamed me 'Incubus,' and I never failed.  Not once."

"Revan wanted Jedi," he went on.  "She wanted to wake them up, she wanted them shaken out of their self-righteous complacency.  The farther down I could pull them, the happier she was, because it made it easier to turn them.  And if she couldn't turn them, she wasn't interested in them."  He looked at her again, searching her eyes.  "And if she couldn't turn them, we got to finish them off."

"Atton," she whispered.  Not angry, but hurt.

"They never saw me coming.  Even now, you can't read my emotions or sense me, can you?  It's a skill," he smiled, prideful and dark.  "Sometimes even the Force users on our own side didn't know I was there.  I've been able to hide myself like that since I was a child.  Self-defense mechanism.  Never thought it would turn out to be so useful."  He went back to staring at the wall behind her head.  "You asked me why I hate Jedi so much."  His smile twisted slightly.  "My father was one.  Well, until he was kicked out of the order and forced into marrying my mother.  He got her pregnant and worse, got caught in a lie and his father insisted on the marriage.  He liked fooling around with the pretty baker, but he hated being married to her and made her life a living hell every day of my life.  He hung out with his friends, and pretended she wasn't there most of the time, which was better than when he paid attention to her.  Some of his friends were Jedi.  Not one ever stood up to him for the way he treated his wife or his son.  They pretend to be so pure and noble, but they lie, and every act of charity is just a mask for their hypocrisy."

She flinched at the naked hatred in his voice.

"I saw them in the back halls, just like all the other nobles, making secret trysts and seducing maids and sleeping with other people's wives.  Their robes don't cover anything different than the paint on a whore's face.  Jedi, Sith, they're the same thing, they're just people with too much power and a religious schism that nobody else even understands or cares about.  So yes, I killed Jedi.  I made them fall to the Dark Side.  And I'm not sorry!"

"Not even once?" she asked softly, trying to understand.

Atton sagged against the wall, his face twisted with pain.  "No, I… There was a woman.  A Twi'lek.  She came to me, sought me out.  I don't know how she found me, or how she knew what she knew.  She told me that she was a Jedi, that she had come to save me.  That Revan wasn't just turning Jedi from the Order to the Dark Side, but anyone she found who had any ability with the Force.  People like me."  Atton swallowed, closed his eyes, trying to find the words.  "She said that I had a spark of the Force inside me, that's how I was able to attract Jedi.  And that I was going to be taken, and turned.  I would become an instrument of the Dark Side, forever.  We'd heard stories, of random people disappearing from the ranks.  I was pretty sure she was telling the truth.  But I didn't care," he said softly.

"You still don't understand how bad I had it, do you?" he asked.  "How much I hated Jedi?  I hated the Jedi so much that I turned my back on Revan's cause rather than become one.  Even a Dark one."  Atton sighed, stared at his feet and drew little figures in the dirt with his toe.  "And she was a Jedi.  Even if she was trying to save my life, or my soul, whatever you want to call it.  She wasn't on Revan's list, so nobody was going to miss her."  He looked at her again, still searching her eyes.  "I killed her.  Left her body in my quarters, took a half-million credits, and walked out.  Hitched a ride to Nar Shadaa, went to the Cantina, and drank until I couldn't stand up."  He grinned, his smile twisted all wrong.  "Not much interesting happened after that.  Until I got picked up in a stolen scouter just outside of Peragus."  He looked at her again.  "Was she lying?"

"That you have the Force?  No, she was telling the truth."  Ludmilla's voice was very soft.  So much pain.  Why had he suffered so much?

"So I really should have been a Jedi."  Atton laughed harshly.  "I wonder how that would have turned out."  He looked at her again.  "Why?  Why don't you hate me?  Why aren't you angry?"

"I should have been there, I would have stopped her.  Protected you."  Her eyes fell, filling with bitter tears.

"You're blaming yourself."  He stared at her.  "You really think you could have stopped Revan?  Kept her from falling to the Dark Side?"

"I would have tried!" she sobbed, "Even if no one else did, I would have tried.  But I couldn't, I was too damaged, I couldn't…."  Standing here, surrounded by all the misery and pain, she truly felt the weight of her failure.  All the people that she had lost under her command, all the worlds she had lost to the Mandalorians in the course of the war, all the people that had died on that one dark day.  And the worst of it all was this one child, barely a man, who had been punished and twisted over and over because there hadn't been anyone to protect him.

"Of course, if I'd been a Jedi, I would never have met you."  Atton lifted her face, watching her eyes, sparkling with tears.  "You're the only Jedi I've ever seen cry."  Before she could speak, he kissed her, wildly and desperately, as if he feared that he would never kiss her again.

"I would have found you.  Wherever you were, whatever you were, I would have found you, Atton."  She kissed him again, tasted her tears on his lips.

He hid his face against her neck, held her close.  "Please don't leave me.  Please don't send me away."

"Atton…."  She slid her arms around him, held him to her.

"I know I can't help you much, but please, let me stay.  Please."  She felt warmth on her skin, a single spot of wetness that ran down her neck to disappear into her armor.  "If I could have been a Jedi like you, maybe … everything would have been different."

"Would you like to be?" she asked gently.  "I could teach you."

"I'm too old, aren't I?" he said, confused, not daring to hope.

"Well," she smiled, "not really.  The first Force users ran mostly by instinct.  Of course, it's against the rules of the Order, and you're not supposed to train adults because it is harder to resist the Dark Side when you suddenly wake up to the power.  But I think you already have a good understanding of what comes with the Dark Side.  And I've given up on the rules of the Order."

"So, you could really train me?  Really?"  He looked her in the eyes, seeking and wondering.

"It's not so much training, as unlocking.  There are different kinds of Jedi," she explained.  "Some fight and defend, like me.  Others are wise and spend all their time learning or teaching, like Kreia.  Others," she stroked his soft hair, "have the ability to make the people around them better.  They're the link between the heroes of myth and the incomprehensible sages.  It's kind of hard to explain.  Would you like me to show you?"

"I – I want to be able to help you, Ludmilla.  I want to use the Force to help protect you.  I know how stupid that sounds," he said hurriedly, but she interrupted him.

"It's not stupid, Atton.  That's what Jedi – real Jedi – should always feel."  Ludmilla was smiling, and she knew she was glowing with happiness, that he had found the strength to cross the gulf of darkness, that now, he would always be with her.  "Open yourself to it, Atton.  You've always felt it, the little currents, the eddies, the flow of life around you."  She took his hands in hers, and concentrated on that feeling that had been lost to her for so long.  "Listen to your thoughts, the echoes inside you.  The joy in your heart, untainted by all the thoughts of war, by all your pain and suffering.  Think about all the times you wanted to protect someone, help them.  Think about how it makes you feel."

She sensed it, the hidden flame inside him flared up, bright and golden, sparkling with life.  "I feel … like I just woke up."  Atton looked at her in confusion.  "I feel different."

"You are different.  You're a Jedi."  Ludmilla smiled at him.  "What kind of lightsaber do you want?"

"It's that easy?"

"It's actually really hard, and quite dangerous."  She pulled him closer.  "But I told you, I trust you."

"Dangerous?  But… you mean, you… I could have…."  He paled as he suddenly began to understand the risk that she had taken.

She smiled at him.  "I knew you weren't going to fall to the Dark Side."  Ludmilla put her arms around his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth.  "Nobody who cooks like you do could ever be truly evil."


	14. Halo on the Bedpost

"You are back," said Kreia calmly.  "Have you found anything?"

"Well, if we haven't attracted the attention of the Exchange yet, then they don't really exist," said Ludmilla in disgust.  "I don't know what else we could do."

"Yeah, killing the local boss probably got their attention, General.  It's just that you also killed the person who was going to take his place, so they probably have to find someone literate to deliver a message to us."

Ludmilla blushed.  "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Also, the General found a Jedi.  Or rather, she made one."

"Truly?" said Kreia, feigning surprise.  "Where would you have found someone to turn into a Jedi?  I don't see your fragile toy anywhere, child.  Have you misplaced him?"

Ludmilla glared at the old woman.  "That's why you didn't want the lightsaber."

Kreia smiled without answering.

"On that note, I'm going to run away from the secret Jedi talk that you two are having in plain sight of everyone and hide in the garage.  Find me if you need me, General."

"Foolish child, it certainly took you long enough to acknowledge his potential.  No doubt you were distracted by his kisses."

"Why are you so cruel to him?" Ludmilla demanded.

"Because one doting old Jedi fawning over his every word is quite enough," snapped Kreia.  "Am I cruel, child, because I teach the boy restraint?  Because I teach him control?  I allowed him – no, I encouraged him to turn to you for support.  To follow your path.  I gave him every chance to see what a true Jedi was capable of, not those paltry paper Knights that littered the galaxy before the war."  Kreia smiled.  "And he saw.  He understood for the first time what a Jedi was capable of.  And because he loves you, rather than fearing you or hating you because of what you are, he wanted to join you.  Is that cruelty, child?"

"Well, don't I feel stupid," said Ludmilla.  "I apologize, Kreia.  I see patterns on battlefields, but I don't see people like that.  It's a great skill."

Kreia smiled, pleased at the compliment, and the truth in her words.  "It is a lesson that you will learn in time, when your sword arm slows."  She waved Ludmilla away.  "Go find your toy and tell him to stop hiding from me.  All the chocolate is gone."

Ludmilla laughed and skipped down to the galley to find Atton.

Kreia smiled to herself, and returned to her quarters, to wait.

"Uh...  there's a fresh pot of hot chocolate in the galley," said Atton quietly.

"Ah, thank you," Kreia smiled.  "I see you took advantage of my wisdom, and chose not to confess all your sins at once."

"Is there a special hell for people like you?  Or do you just burn with the regular people?  I think you should get your own layer."

Kreia laughed gently.  "I agree with you, boy.  I would hate to be trapped with mere murderers when I deserve so much more.  So you held her down by the throat, smiled with pleasure as you crushed her brain-tails, caused her unimaginable pain, and you savored every second of it.  Fool!" she hissed in sudden fury.  "I held the galaxy by the throat, I crushed thousands beneath my heels, bent them to my will, and you cannot imagine how it felt.  But if I wished, I could make you feel it, just as she makes you feel the light.  Do not tempt me, fool.  All I ask of you is that you remain her loyal lapdog.  Fear me if you will, but do not anger me."

"What are you?"

"I am a teacher, boy.  When a student is ready for my words, they will hear them."

Atton glared at her, and wished that he had the strength to stand against her.

"You do not have the strength, fool.  Neither does the seer, who, it will please you to know, has learned there are greater things to fear in the galaxy than the Sith Lord who broke her.  The only one who has that strength is not yet ready to see what lies ahead.  Go away, boy.  I will teach you, and her, and whoever else she gathers to her.  I will make you strong in the Force, and give you the wisdom to face down the Sith Lords.  Whether you realize what must be done after that is still in question."

"You don't seriously think she would become a Sith Lord?"

"I do not," said Kreia simply.  "But she could become something greater.  Now go, boy."

Atton almost left, but turned back.  "Why do you switch?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sometimes, I'm 'boy' and sometimes, I'm 'fool.'  Pick one, and stick with it."

Kreia laughed in surprise.  "Indeed, I do.  I had not noticed.  I will call you whatever name seems appropriate to me."

"Do you just not use people's real names?"

"Foolish boy.  The Exile and the alien are the only people on this ship using their true names.  Ah, and the little machine.  Why are you still here, boy?"

"You said you would teach me."

"As I will, boy, if you will learn.  Sit."  Kreia could feel it, even behind the walls in his mind.  The hunger for power, twisted up in his need to protect.  She smiled.  "The greater lessons will come later.  Let us start with something simple," Kreia began.  "A rare skill, and if you can use it, one that will be most helpful in our battles."  She laughed.  "I see that interests you."

Ludmilla finished with the workbench, and started looking for Atton.  She heard Kreia talking, her rich voice alternating between chastising and praising.  Curious, she went to Kreia's quarters, and found her teaching an impromptu Jedi class, the Miraluka and Atton kneeling quietly on the floor, focusing on the Force.

"Ah, it seems our lesson is over," said Kreia by way of greeting.

"What were they learning?"

"The boy is learning Combat Meditation.  In time, he may even master Battle Meditation," said Kreia with a touch of pride.  "And he and the seer were practicing affecting the flow of the Force to aid companions in battle.  Sadly, I do not know of a Force power to assist him in removing your clothes," said Kreia acidly as Atton blushed.

"Did you actually ask that?" laughed Ludmilla.

"Of course he did," snapped Kreia.  "Now, if you will excuse me, an old woman deserves a treat after putting up with two spoiled children for so long."  Kreia swept grandly out of the room, and descended to the galley.

Atton snickered.  "What a witch."

"That is no way to speak of an elder," said the Miraluka disapprovingly.

"Oh, you're so uptight.  Er, did you two ever trade names?  Or just try to kill each other?" asked Atton, and Ludmilla laughed again.  "Here, let me introduce you.  Visas Marr, this is Ludmilla Sîvoš.  Naked Jedi Chick, this is Blind Jedi Chick."

Visas flushed bright red, and Ludmilla laughed again, unable to stop herself.

"Atton!  Will you behave!" she tried to sound stern, but failed utterly.

"You do not follow the rules of the Order?" asked Visas nervously.

"Only the good ones," grinned Ludmilla, "and there aren't many of those.  Here," she held out a lightsaber to each of them.  "All that salvage we found in the Exchange base came in really handy."

Atton smiled in delight as he activated his new lightsaber, the dual blades glowing a brilliant yellow.  "I like this color!"

"I tried to get it closer to golden, but I ran out of crystals."

Curious, Visas activated her lightsaber.  It was also dual-bladed, but Ludmilla had changed the color to a pale rose from the harsh angry red.  "It is lighter," said the Miraluka in surprise.  "You have corrected the balance."

"I like to fix things," Ludmilla smiled.

Atton celebrated his first lightsaber lesson with a meal fit for a king.  Visas nearly choked on the spicy Zabraki soup, and Ludmilla devoured an entire loaf of the sweet Miralukan bread.  Bao-Dur settled back in his chair with his third mug of cider, and Kreia settled down with a plate of pastries and even more chocolate.  Ludmilla and Visas were sharing some fresh fruit, and Atton was stealing food from various plates, and sharing a mug of cider with Ludmilla.

"So, Visas," said Bao-Dur calmly, "how are you feeling?"

"I am able to serve," she said nervously.  "If there is a battle, I will fight and die alongside you."

Bao-Dur laughed into his mug.  "That's not what I asked.  I wanted to know if you were recovered from your encounter with the General.  She hits hard."

"She was trying to kill me, old man!  And doing a terrible job of it," she mused.  "Why do Sith Lords throw away their apprentices like that?"

"To the Sith, failure is weakness," said Visas softly.  "A Master with a weak apprentice is weak.  Those who are weak are destroyed."

"That's just stupid," said Atton.  "How can anyone learn anything that way?  You'd just be afraid to try anything where there is a risk of losing, and what kind of life is that?"

"Speaking of risk, stop stealing my cider!" snapped Ludmilla, and ignored Atton's quiet laughter.  "In some ways, the Sith philosophy is just as narrow-minded and short-sighted as the rules of the Order."

"None of which," Bao-Dur interrupted, "answers my question.  How are you, Visas?"

The Miralukan smiled at his concern.  "My wounds are healed, although I would prefer that Master Ludmilla did not hit me again."

"Oh, there will be none of that," exclaimed Ludmilla.  "None of that Master crap, thank you.  Just plain Ludmilla will do.  Maybe for Kreia."

Kreia made a noise of distaste.  "I am too old for such nonsense."

"Of course," said Visas uncertainly.  "My apologies."

"And I didn't mean to hit you so hard, but I was in a rush."

"I know," said Visas, "I felt the mercy in your actions.  I was taught that such feelings were a weakness, but for you, they are a strength.  I did not know such things were possible."

"That's the General for you," grinned Bao-Dur, "doing one hundred impossible things before breaking her fast."

Visas looked curiously at Bao-Dur.  "You call her, 'General.'  Why is that?"

"Because he likes living in the past," Ludmilla joked.

"Because she is a Jedi General, served in the Mandalorian Wars.  Didn't your old Master mention that?"

Visas shook her head slowly.  "He did not send me to a name, but a presence that we felt in the Force.  A disturbance, an echo, like no other.  It was not like an echo that comes from a living person, and he could not understand how it eluded him for so long.  He found it… significant."

Ludmilla rolled her eyes.  "Typical Sith reaction.  Sense the unknown, and kill it.  No wonder the Sith always lose."

"Where is your old Master now?" asked Atton.  "Do you know?"  He refilled Ludmilla's mug before she could complain that he had drained it again.

Visas shook her head.  "I do not.  His vessel travels the borders of known space.  He seeks… something.  A path, I think.  I do not know where to find him until he calls me."

Kreia smiled.  "And now, his calls will go unanswered.  Unless you wish to connect yourself to him again."

"I do not!" said Visas in sudden terror.  "Are you certain, quite certain, Elder Kreia?  He will not be able to find me again?"

Kreia smiled very slowly.  "I assure you, little seer, he will only try it once."  Kreia chuckled to herself.  "And it will fail."

"Part of me is terrified by anything that makes you happy," said Atton, "but the other part of me wants to see his face whenever your trap goes off."

Kreia laughed.

"Elder Kreia addresses her as 'Exile,'" said Visas humbly, as if she feared being rebuked for asking the question.  "But if she fought in the wars, why would she have been exiled?  The Mandalorian wars were a victory for the Republic, were they not?"

There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to find the best way to answer the question.

"Because the Jedi are stupid," said Atton.  "And the Republic Senate requires that you hand over your spine before you can take a seat."

"It's more complicated than that," protested Ludmilla.

"No it isn't," said Bao-Dur gently.  "They blamed you for fighting, and wouldn't admit that they were wrong.  Look at what they did to Master Arren.  They exiled her for falling in love, despite the fact that she trained the greatest Jedi the galaxy has ever seen."

"Who's Master Arren?" Atton asked.

"Arren Kae.  A beautiful woman, one of Revan's Masters.  Revan's first Master, I believe."  Ludmilla took another sip of her cider.  "Technically, she was exiled for hiding the fact that she had a child and was raising it in secret, not just for falling in love with a married man."  Ludmilla smiled.  "It wasn't really a secret, either.  We all knew and didn't care.  We were more concerned with war than love at the time.  It only came out because his wife found out about it, and declared her husband an Oathbreaker."

"Echani?" said Atton.

"General Yusanis, actually," said Ludmilla.  "You probably know the name."

"Senator Yusanis?  He wasn't an Oathbreaker.  Was he?" asked Atton in confusion.  "You'd think someone in the Senate would have noticed that.  You know, before he died."

"He challenged it, and won, the lying bastard.  Revan was so angry.  We both challenged him, but the Echani courts refused to allow us.  Revan was devastated.  Master Arren was exiled, and we never heard from her again.  Revan always planned to go find her, but never had a chance."

Kreia looked at her curiously.  "You challenged Yusanis?  Really?"

Ludmilla blushed.  "Well, yes.  So I was young and impulsive.  He deserved a beating."

Kreia smiled.  "No doubt.  Still, no matter what the world thought of him, his wife and children would have known him for what he was.  A small consolation."

"How many Masters did Revan have, anyway?" asked Atton.  "It seems like every Jedi Master in the galaxy trained her at some point or another."

"Revan had an insatiable thirst for learning," laughed Ludmilla.  "You're almost right, she stopped every Master she met and tried to learn something from them.  And she read all the time.  She was the reason the Order wanted to limit the number of Padawans that one Master could have at a time.  I have no idea how many she really had, but her only formal Masters were Kae, Lestin, and Vandar.  I think that's right."

"How about you?" Atton asked.

"I learned from a few different Masters, mostly to gather new lightsaber forms.  My only formal Master spent most of her time yelling at me.  She's the one who taught that anyone can be redeemed."  She smiled gently at a memory.  "Vima Sunrider, the student who redeemed her Master."

"Who was her Master?" asked Visas, who had been hanging eagerly on all their stories.

"Ulic Qel-Droma."

"The Sith Lord?" said Visas in shock.

Ludmilla nodded.  "Well, this was after all of that.  He was a broken Sith, at the time.  I bet the Sith don't tell that story, do they?"

"How could someone trained by a former Sith Lord join the Jedi Order?" asked Visas in disbelief.

"Oh, I guess she taught me disrespect for the rules of the Order, too," chuckled Ludmilla.  "They couldn't find a way to say no, I guess."

"The chocolate is gone again," said Kreia mournfully.  "I suppose that means it is time to rest."

"Is the chocolate a Jedi thing?  Or just a woman thing?  It can't be, I mean Visas didn't go crazy over the chocolate."

Visas blushed.

"Where do you think the first pot of chocolate went, boy?"  Kreia rose gracefully.  "I am going to rest.  Be sure to practice the lessons you have learned today."

"It's just like being in school all over again, except no one has tried to stuff me in a footlocker."

Ludmilla grinned, and began clearing the table.  Visas sprang to her feet to help, as did Bao-Dur.

"I'll go check the security systems and make sure T3 hasn't run off."  Atton ran up the stairs and disappeared.

"You can go, General.  We've got this."

Ludmilla smiled.  "You sure, old man?"

Bao-Dur nodded, and Ludmilla ran up the stairs in chase of Atton.  She checked the security room, but didn't see him there, and headed to the bridge.

Atton pounced on her from behind, kissing her ear and laughing as she shrieked in surprise.

"Where were you?"

"I was hiding," he grinned, and kissed her properly.

She smiled joyously at him, and kissed him back, until he was panting and breathless.  "So, are you all done in the security room?"

Atton smiled at her, and led her back to the cargo hold.  Ludmilla looked around in surprise.  Her little nest had been extended, and more pillows added.

She smiled at him.  "Is it more comfortable now?"

"Let's find out."

Ludmilla kissed him again, sat down on the bed, still kissing him.  He had added another layer of padding as well, she noted, and laughed a little.  Atton laughed back between kisses, and they lay down together.  He opened her shirt so that he could kiss her breasts, and Ludmilla ran her hands through his hair, moaning in pleasure.  He worked his way down her body, swirling his tongue in her navel before he slid her pants away.  She gasped, then shrieked in pleasure as his tongue worked over her, opening her, tasting every inch of her.  While his tongue was pleasuring her, his hands were pulling away her clothes so that he could run his hands over her bare skin.

Atton pulled away from her, and stripped off his clothes.  Ludmilla drew him down to her, and licked his face clean.  He started in surprise at first, then smiled at her, kissing her again.  She pulled him closer, and wrapped her legs around him, letting him slide inside her wetness.  Atton put his arms under her, digging his hands into the sheets while he began thrusting into her.

Already aroused from his earlier attentions, Ludmilla came to the brink of orgasm quickly with Atton inside her, screaming in passion as he stroked her in her most sensitive spots.  Her muscles clutched at Atton, and he cried out as well, and she brought him over the edge, following her into a shuddering rush of ecstasy and release.  Atton whimpered softly and laid his head on her breasts.

Ludmilla sighed happily, and put her arms around Atton, holding him closely while he fell asleep.

Atton was having the nightmare.  It began as it always did, with him in his mother's arms, his face hidden against her, sobbing uncontrollably while his parents yelled at each other.  He was young, very young, and at six, was still small enough for her to pick him up in her arms.

"Just stay away from him!" she screamed.  "You're not taking him away.  He's all I ever wanted from you.  Just leave us alone!"

"You want that monster in your house?  Are you crazy?"

"It's not like he got it from me," she snapped.  "If you would stop upsetting him, this wouldn't happen!"

In the real world, the fight ended here, his father stormed off in a rage while servants cleaned up the mess.  But in the nightmare, instead of picking up the body of Atton's tutor, the servants pulled him away from his mother, over the sound of her screams.  His father held her back, and dragged her into another room while the servants carried him downstairs, past a crowd of angry people who shouted and threw filth at him as they passed.  They struck him when he struggled, and carried him down to the seashore.  There, on the ancient docks, a tiny boat waited.  They threw him in, and he fell to the floor, dazed.  The lines were cut, and the boat drifted away.

He lay at the bottom, listening to their shouts of hatred, and shaking with fear.  The bottom was slowly filling with water.  He finally sat up, and looked around.  He was alone, on the vast expanse of water.  No one would ever find him, and the boat would slowly, inexorably fill with water until he sank, screaming, into the sea.  Atton sat down, pulled his knees up to his chest.  He didn't know what to do, he never did.  All he could do was feel, and a thousand emotions, more wild than any sea storm, ripped through him.  He was alone.  He was going to die out here, they had sent him out to die all alone.  He was terrified, and fought to keep himself from screaming in terror, because he knew once he started he wouldn't be able to stop.

Something bumped against the boat, and Atton looked up in surprise.  That wasn't part of the nightmare.

"Hello," said a cheery voice.  It was a young girl, older than him, standing on a sturdy raft with a sail that looked like a dress.  She was in a bathing suit, or possibly just her underwear.  He wasn't sure.  She had a wide, friendly smile, her eyes were slightly slanted and green like the forest.  Her hair was dark yellow, wet and fell in salty locks around her face.  "Your boat has a hole in it."

Atton just stared at her.

"Come on," she held out her hand to him.  "It's not worth fixing it."

He nervously reached out to her.  Her hand was warm and strong, and she easily lifted him out of the rickety little boat.  She set him down on a coil of rope, and pushed the little raft away from the slowly sinking ship.  The wind picked up, blowing his hair around his face and billowing out the dress-sail.

"And we're off!" she said with a smile.  "This is a lot nicer, isn't it?"

Atton nodded.  Alone, the sun had been oppressive; the water, menacing; the sky, baleful and dark.  Now, with a companion, the sun was balmy.  The water was crystal clear and colorful fish came up to the raft, swimming in curious circles.  The sky was bright blue and filled with fluffy clouds.  And her smile made him feel safer than he ever had in his entire life.

"Here we are," she said as the raft came up to a small tropical island.  Atton stood up so that she could tie the raft to a stump.  She jumped into the water.  "Oh," she said suddenly.  "You'll get your shoes wet."

Atton pulled off his shoes and tossed them into the sea, then followed her into the water with a smile.

She laughed happily, and held his hand as they walked.  The sand was warm around his toes, and the air smelled like flowers.

Atton looked around, and saw a tree that made him stop and stare.  "That tree has candy on it."

"What?" she said excitedly.  "Where?"

He looked up at her.  "I know you!  You're Ludmilla.  What are you doing in my dreams?"

"Your dreams?" she grinned.  "You dream about palm trees with sugar sticks on them, too?  I thought that was just me."

"This was my nightmare," he explained.

"Well, it's not now, is it?  So what are you doing in my dreams?" she asked him with a little smile.

Atton looked around in confusion, and Ludmilla laughed.  "It's just a dream, don't be so serious.  Come, let's climb that tree and get some candy!"

She led him to the tree, and helped him up so they could walk along the broad branches, and help themselves to handfuls of sugar sticks before jumping back down into the soft sand.  They landed in giggles, and Atton pointed out a burbling fountain.  The water was deliciously cool, and they sat down on a fallen log.  Atton rested his head on her shoulder, and she put her arm around him.

"Did you see the first part of my dream?" he asked.

"No," she answered calmly.  "I didn't see you until you called for help."

"I didn't – " he stopped himself, and snuggled closer to her, ashamed to admit his weakness, and she kissed his cheek.

"You're silly.  And you're not alone, not now."  She kissed him again, on the lips this time, the way children do to each other.  "You're not alone anymore, Atton."

Atton woke up, because she really was kissing him.  He stirred in her arms, and the kiss changed from gentle and loving to fiery and passionate.  With a little laugh, she moved herself over him, sliding her body over him and feeling him stir to full hardness beneath her.  She was hot and welcoming, and Atton thrust easily into her.  Ludmilla kissed him hungrily, savoring every sensation that the touch of his body against hers caused.  He gasped sweetly, unable to resist the warmth and strength of her body.

"I love the noises you make," she whispered, and he could feel her muscles tightening around him in response.  "They make me crazy."

He laughed slightly, but couldn't speak.  He made another soft noise as Ludmilla continued to ride him, and he could feel every ripple of her interior muscles.  Atton closed his eyes, trying not to come too soon, but it was no use.  He arched up, thrusting wildly into her, with soft, desperate cries of passion.

Ludmilla sighed with pleasure, and lay down next to him, keeping him inside her for as long as she could until they fell asleep again, dreamless this time, but still tangled together.


	15. On the Side of the Angels

Atton sipped at a cup of tea as he walked back to the cargo hold, carrying a bottle of water for Ludmilla.  He stopped to check the security console more out of habit than anything, as he didn't think the Exchange would have bothered to send a message.  He stared at the blinking message light in surprise, and started to play the message.

"I guess everyone should hear this," he muttered to himself, and turned to leave the room, and almost ran into Bao-Dur.  "Don't sneak up on people like that!" Atton exclaimed.

"How does that thing stay on?" asked Bao-Dur, indicating the silk cloth that Atton had wrapped around his slender hips.

"It just takes a little practice," Atton assured him.  "Anyway, the Exchange sent us a message, finally.  I'll find T3 and get him to project it where we can all see it."

"I'll get everyone to the main cabin," said Bao-Dur.  "And put some clothes on."

"What?  I'm dressed."  Atton looked down at himself.  "I'm totally covered."

"Atton," said Bao-Dur wearily, "just put some clothes on."  He walked away to gather the rest of the crew.

Ludmilla pulled on a shirt and pants before she walked to the main cabin, where Atton and T3 were setting up the message for projection.  Ludmilla sat in one of the chairs and watched him work.  He was still wearing the silk wrap, but he had changed it so that his chest was covered, as a concession to modesty.  The cloth was draped elegantly over his slender form, and he looked like an ancient statue come to life.

"Kreia, can you get him to put some clothes on?" Bao-Dur asked.

Kreia smiled.  "Why?"  She took another sip of her chocolate and sat down at the table.

"Just watch the message, old man, and stop being shocked by Human impropriety."

T3 started the message.  It was from someone named Visquis, a crimelord of the Exchange.

"Another Quarren." Bao-Dur noted.  "This isn't going to go well."

Visquis invited Ludmilla to a meeting, alone, in a bar where Humans couldn't breathe.  Ludmilla shook her head as she listened to the Quarren's offer.  She had pulled Atton into her lap, and was idly running her hands over the silk and his legs while she focused on the sounds behind the Quarren.

"He's planning to betray his boss," she said suddenly.  "And there's a Wookie in the background somewhere.  Probably that bounty hunter someone mentioned earlier.  There aren't that many Wookies on Nar Shadaa.  Rewind fifteen seconds, and replay that part where he's talking about his private room again."

She listened carefully as the Quarren spoke, not to his words but to the noise in the background.

"What is it, General?" Bao-Dur asked when the message had ended again.

"There's another set of noises in the background.  Respirators or rebreathers, I can't tell."

"I heard the growling of a Wookie," said Visas, "and I hear the machine breathing that you speak of, but I cannot tell what it is.  There are many of them, perhaps seven or eight."

"Well, it's a good thing it's not a trap," said Atton cheerfully, and kissed her cheek before snuggling closer into her arms.  "You're not actually going to go, are you?  Of course you are," he sighed softly.

Ludmilla didn't answer.  She gave Atton a quick hug to reassure him while she planned out her next moves.

"General, have I congratulated you on finding a way to make monogamy indecent?"

Ludmilla grinned, but didn't bother to answer Bao-Dur's teasing.

"This trap works both ways," said Kreia slowly.  "They think to trap a Jedi, but they have no idea how difficult it truly is."

"We have an environmental suit around here somewhere, don't we?  I'll take that to their little poison club."

"Why?" asked Bao-Dur.  "You don't need it."

"He obviously doesn't know that," said Ludmilla, referring to the Quarren's offer to send an environmental suit for her use if necessary.  "Bao-Dur, check in with Vogga the Hutt and see if he knows about Visquis sending for me, then come back here.  Everyone else, stay in or near the ship while I'm gone.  Keep your guard up.  I wouldn't put it past them to try and grab the Ebon Hawk while I'm out of the picture."  She gently lifted Atton as she stood, and set him on his feet.  "We shouldn't take too long, I don't want them to think I'm not coming."

"Does that mean you two will finally get dressed?"

"You know, old man, I seem to recall a certain doctor with purple face tattoos and long black hair waking me up in the middle of the night to borrow things, and she never complained about my lack of clothing."

Bao-Dur grinned at the memory.  "That's because she was more polite than I am."  He went to get his armor and weapons.

Ludmilla laughed, and walked back to her room to get ready.

Atton frowned, thinking, and followed her without saying anything.

Visas felt them leave, and knew that she was alone with Kreia and T3, who was busily working with the main console.  "Kreia?  How is it possible that they can love each other and not fall to the Dark Side?"

"Love is not the trap that leads Jedi to the Dark Side.  Weakness, fear, jealousy – the dark emotions that prey on love cause Jedi to fall.  Not love itself.  She is far too strong to fall through love, and she supports him, keeping him from the worst and darkest emotions.  For his part, he is wise and honest enough to know that her judgment is to be trusted.  He has no false pride, not in this.  He follows her, faithful and trusting, and depends on her to keep him in the light."

"What if she were to die?" asked Visas nervously.  She had felt the inner strength of the noble Jedi Knight who had spared her, and knew that Ludmilla would survive the loss of her dear companion.

"That," said Kreia softly, "is a different story.  He is strong with the Force, though he has hidden and suppressed it for so long.  What do you think would happen, seer?"

"I think that he would be very dangerous," Visas answered quietly.  "I do not understand why you encourage her to take such risks."

Kreia smiled, although she knew the blind seer couldn't see it.  "What is life without risk?  How can a Jedi say they fight to defend life without understanding what it is that they are saving?  How can one say they fight the darkness if they have never stood in the light?"

Visas shook her head.  "Such strength is not given to everyone.  She is special."

"Such strength was not given to her, either.  She earned it through her suffering, and by daring to face both the light and the darkness on her own terms.  Draw on her strength, seer, you will not weaken her by doing so."  Kreia laughed softly.  "Indeed, I find it makes her stronger."

"You don't really think that someone would fall in love with me, do you?" said Visas doubtfully.  "There are no Miraluka left in this sector, and I am not attractive to Humans."  Her face was still and sad as she spoke.

Kreia chuckled.  "Whoever told you that was a liar.  But I will leave it for someone else to convince you of that, seer.  If there is one thing that all Human men – Near or True – have in common, it is the ability to find any female attractive."  Kreia laughed again, and left Visas alone to ponder her words.

Atton took her hand as the door closed.  "I know I can't go with you, but can I at least walk with you to the docks?"

Ludmilla smiled gently, kissed him and wrapped her arms around him, running her hands over the silk and his skin.  "I'll come back, you know that, right?"

Atton nodded without speaking.

She kissed him again.  "Yes, you can walk me to the docks.  And then head back to the ship."

"Actually," said Atton, "I was thinking we should check on some of the other bounty hunters.  See if the Exchange has anything else up their sleeves."

Ludmilla nodded.  "Good idea."  She didn't like the idea of sending him out on such a mission, but as a leader, she knew better than to refuse.  She was proud of him for volunteering, and kissed him again.  "Of course," she smiled, "that means you do have to get dressed."

Atton grinned, and started gathering his clothes while Ludmilla watched.  "What are you doing?" he asked her curiously.

"It's like a striptease, but in reverse," she smiled.

Atton laughed, and threw a pillow at her.  He pulled on the rest of his clothes.  "I should probably bring my blasters, huh?  No point in letting anyone know you've been secretly doubling the number of Jedi in the galaxy."

Ludmilla laughed.  "If Bao-Dur wasn't so stubborn, I'd have even more."

Atton looked at her in surprise.  "Bao-Dur is Force-Sensitive too?"

She nodded.  "But he'd rather work with machines than people.  And he's a much better tech than he would be a Jedi," Ludmilla grinned.  "Are you ready to go?"

Atton looked down, and wiggled his toes.  "The monster under the bed ate my shoes.  I'll be just a second, I'm sure they're in here somewhere."

With a laugh, Ludmilla went to go check on the rest of the crew before leaving.

Atton joined her at the exit ramp, and looked around.  "Where's Bao-Dur?"

"He went on ahead," she grinned.  "He's still grumpy."

"When is he not grumpy?"

"Well," Ludmilla thought for a moment.  "Never, really.  But at least he's nice about it."  They laughed, and left the ship.  She took his hand as they walked.

"Please be careful," he said softly.  He was watching the ground, not looking at her.  "I won't be able to contact you on the commlink or anything."

She smiled at him.  "If you want to contact me, you can.  We don't need a commlink now."

"Oh.  I forgot," he blushed.  "Just… watch yourself.  And don't be gone too long."  They were at the entrance to the Nar Shadaa docks now, and from here she would have to go alone.  He put his arms around her, kissed her again.  "Come back to me, please."

She buried her hands in his dark hair, and kissed him wildly.  "I will, I promise.  Keep watch until I return."

Ludmilla entered the dock sector, turned the corner out of his sight.  When she looked back, he was already gone.  She smiled to herself, and wondered if she should worry more or less.

"So, you're the big bad Jedi that's got the Exchange going like a cheap reactor core.  You look like a Mandalorian out of her battle armor."

Ludmilla glanced at the speaker.  A young Human woman in light armor that barely covered her bosom, with bright red hair and a pair of deadly bounty hunter blasters on her shapely hips.  "I get that a lot," said Ludmilla dryly.  "Can't imagine why."

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be smart," said the bounty hunter with a slight sneer.  She crossed her arms, and regarded the Jedi in front of her curiously.  "But you've been running around Nar Shadaa like a wild woman, sticking your lightsaber in everybody's business, and riling up the Exchange.  Did you not know about the gigantic bounty on your head?"

"Oh, the one no one has collected for almost a full Standard week?  Even though apparently everyone and their grandmother knows who, where, and what I am?"  Ludmilla smiled.  "I think someone overestimated how good the Nar Shadaa bounty hunters are."

"Well, that's going to change.  I'm Mira, the best bounty hunter in the system, and that's not bragging, that's fact."

"So I've heard."

"And I've heard that squid-head, Visquis, has sent you an invitation to meet with him so he can take you to meet Goto, the leader of the Exchange.  It's a trap."

"I figured that out all by myself.  Thanks for the confirmation, though."

"Look, I've heard about the meeting.  That means, in a few hours, every other bounty hunter here will have heard about it, too.  When that happens, things are going to get very ugly, very fast."

Ludmilla shrugged.  "So I should meet with him and get this over with sooner rather than later."

"You're missing the point," said Mira impatiently.  "You're not the one in danger."


	16. Charms and Tokens, pt. 4

Atton walked slowly to the Nar Shadaa cantina.  He could feel eyes on him as he made his way through the quad.  He wondered what he looked like to them.  He wondered what he looked like to himself.  There was no glass here for him to see a reflection.

He entered the cantina, and looked around.  The bartender was new to him, a Human male who had seen better days a long time ago.  "What do you have back there?" Atton asked him.

"Stuff to drink," said the bartender shortly.

Atton grinned.  Bartenders always knew when trouble walked in.  "Got anything green?"

The bartender frowned in surprise, and pulled out a bottle of startlingly green spirits.  "Is this what you wanted?"

"Perfect!  Pour me a glass."  Atton slid over a credit chit.  "I guess the last owner left you her notes."

The bartender took the chit without looking at it, and poured the drink into an oddly shaped glass, then dug out a perforated silver tray and set it on top of the glass.  Then he placed a pyramid-shaped block of sugar on the tray, and poured sparkling white wine over the sugar, melting it and adding them both to the green liquid in the glass.  The drink seemed to coalesce and merge, forming a cloudy mixture that settled into a strangely forbidding misty green.

Atton took the drink with a happy sigh, leaned against the bar, and sipped it while he watched the people in the cantina.  There, a Twi'lek man was auditioning dancers; beyond them, some green aliens were crouched together whispering in their guttural language and glancing around nervously.  Closer to him, two Humans were sitting together, counting their credits; on the other side, Pazaak players were busy stealing each other's credits.

The door to the cantina opened, and two Twi'lek women walked in.  What little clothing they wore was all black leather, skintight and decorated with glittering gems and embroidery.  Their brain-tails flickered gently at each other, in the silent Twi'lek language.  Without seeming to look at him, they approached.

Atton looked them over.  They were beautiful, like all Twi'lek women were.  Their skin was a lovely shade of blue, their wide eyes dark and beautifully painted, their lips full and generous.  "Sisters, I take it?  So, do you two work here?" he grinned.

"We are dancers, yes," said the first one in her soft voice.

"Slaves once," said the other, "but no more."

He could see their brain-tails moving, and knew they were speaking to each other, saying more than just the words that he could hear.  "Fascinating," smiled Atton, and finished his drink, setting the glass down.

"Do you seek something?" asked the first one.  "Entertainment, perhaps?"

"Perhaps we can provide what you seek," said the second, her voice low and seductive.

"Actually," said Atton, unable to stop his smile from twisting darkly, "I'm here to be a distraction.  In the event that certain parties tried to harm someone I care about by striking at her companions."

The first Twi'lek shook her head sadly.  "We wish only the Exile," she said softly.  "Submit, and we shall harm no one."

"Resist," said the other, "and we shall destroy you and seek other bait."

Atton laughed, a very dark and lovely laugh that made the Twi'leks stare at him.  The Twi'lek man was scurrying his dancers out of the cantina, and most of the other people were also moving out of range or leaving the cantina altogether.  The bartender was long gone.  Atton moved his glass from the bar to the lower counter, and hoped it wouldn't get broken in the fight.  He turned back to the Twi'leks, and pulled out a pair of short, black blades from the hidden sheaths in the back of his jacket.

"Sith blades," said the first one, as they drew their own swords.

"Are the stories of you true, then?" asked the second.  "Does the beautiful Jedi know of them?"

Atton snarled.  "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or I'd cut your eyes out for looking at her."

The Twi'leks separated, trying to flank him.  "Is it possible," said the first one, "to offer a deal to you?  Perhaps some arrangement can be reached?"  She attacked as she spoke, but Atton blocked her easily, with unexpected speed and skill.

Atton shook his head.  "You've already given me what I want."

The Twi'lek looked at him, confused for a moment, distracted by his words.

Atton's blades were short, both for concealment, and for his personal fighting style.  He didn't need reach or strength, not the way he fought.  Before the first Twi'lek had a chance to react, he was in close, his knives flashing.  "You've given me a chance to remember," he hissed.  "I'd forgotten what it felt like.  Holding the blades."  He drew back, blocked a series of blows from the second Twi'lek, and watched the first one fall to her knees.  "Feeling the shock of blade against blade, the softness of flesh around the steel."

The second Twi'lek looked in horror at her sister on the floor, and her brain-tails twitched in agitation.

She was distracted, long enough for Atton to strike again.  "I'd forgotten," he whispered, "the warmth of an enemy's blood spilling out over your hands.  I'd almost completely forgotten."  The second Twi'lek fell as well, and Atton felt the familiar, peculiar vibration of the ground beneath his feet that only happened when a body hit the floor.

They were still moving.  Badly wounded, but alive.  He watched them in silence for a moment, thinking.  He looked down at the blood on his hands, watched the drops fall from his fingers to the floor.  He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, and walked behind the bar to wash his hands.  He wiped his blades clean on a bar towel, and threw the blood-stained towel in the trash before sheathing his blades again.  He helped himself to their weapons and whatever credits they had on them, and left them alone on the floor, to die or recover as best they could.

Atton needed to warn his friends of the danger that they were in, and he ran as quickly as he could back to the Ebon Hawk.

He caught up to Bao-Dur, who was returning from his visit to Vogga the Hutt, just in front of the landing pad.

"What's up, Atton?"

"The bounty hunter truce is off," Atton explained.  "I'm pretty sure they all know the Exile is meeting with Visquis.  That means we're the only targets left."

Kreia, sensing his agitation, met them just outside the ship, followed by Visas.  "The Quarren will not reveal his information to the Exile before their meeting is complete."

"Yeah, but they're going to be coming after us first."

"Will the Exile be in danger?" asked Visas nervously.

"The General can take care of herself."

Atton turned, to see a crew of Duros crossing the bridge to their landing pad.  "Yeah, I think we're the ones in trouble, not her."

They'd heard of the clan of Duros bounty hunters, working together to gather enough money to buy a new homeworld.  There were about eighty of them, all carrying blasters or heavy rifles.  Their leader spewed a long diatribe at them, and motioned threateningly with his blaster.

"My Duros isn't that good," said Atton.  "All I caught was 'very,' because he repeated it about seventeen times."

"I think he wants us to hand over the General to his collection of poorly trained bounty hunters," said Bao-Dur doubtfully.

"Right," said Atton.  "Which one do you want?"

"I'll take the stupid one who decided to threaten us instead of shooting when he had the chance."

"Right.  Anyone else want to claim any specific ones?"

"I will take the ones that try to run," said Kreia with a smile.  "Come, children.  This is no time for holding back.  If you wish to continue serving the Exile, then those that stand against us here must die.  None must escape to tell tales of what happened here."

The Duros leader fired, but Bao-Dur's shields were already up, and the blast dissipated harmlessly.  He returned the shot with a blast from his heavy rifle, and the Duros leader staggered.

Following Kreia's lead, Visas and Atton unleashed the Force on the main body of bounty hunters.  The Duros twisted and shrieked in agony as the blasts arced from victim to victim.  Kreia flung hapless Duros from the platform, and they fell screaming into the lower levels of Nar Shadaa, to land hundreds of stories below.

Bao-Dur shot the Duros writhing in agony on the floor, while the three Jedi kept the rest of them incapacitated or helpless.

"Isn't that power supposed to belong to the Dark Side of the Force?" asked Bao-Dur idly, after all the Duros were all dead.

"Nonsense," said Kreia sharply.  "Is your gun evil?  Power has no ethical value, it is the user that gives it the trappings of good or evil.  Seal the ship, we must go to find what has happened to the Exile."

Atton felt it, just as she said the words.  "What – something's happened to her!"

"She has been rendered unconscious, but is otherwise unharmed.  We must hurry, before that changes."


	17. Angel with a Sword

Ludmilla could feel herself waking, very slowly.  The bounty hunter girl had gassed her, and stolen the environmental suit to go to the meeting with Visquis.  The gas had been hidden by the stench of Nar Shadaa, and the girl had used olfactory blockers on herself before meeting with Ludmilla to prevent herself from succumbing to the gas.  Ludmilla groaned.  She couldn't believe she had fallen for such a stupid trap.

"The numbness will be wearing off soon," said a vaguely familiar voice.  Male.  Old.  Wise.  "I regret that it has come to this.  When I first heard you were on Nar Shadaa, I didn't quite believe it.  I didn't think anyone could track me here, but I realize now that I underestimated you.  We all did."

Master Ell.  Ludmilla tried to force herself to her feet, but she was still too deep in the effects of the gas.

"I have watched and listened as you traveled through the Refugee Sector.  I've seen what you've done here.  All the things I could not do, fearing to disrupt the delicate balance of the moon, fearing that a thoughtless act would make the lives of the people trapped here worse.  And you, an Exile, have proven to be more of a Jedi than I.  You have healed the sick, reunited families and lovers, found work for the willing, and forced out the cheaters and murderers that preyed on the weak.  I see now that I was wrong, that I can no longer stand by silently while the Exchange closes its grip on this sector."  Master Ell sighed, and she could sense his shame and regret.  "And even now, I must ask you to do one more thing.  A … friend… has gone to meet Visquis in your stead, but she has fallen into a trap laid to catch a Jedi.  She must be rescued.  Will you do this?  If you do, then I will know that we were truly wrong about you."

There was a soft rustle of robes, and she knew that Master Ell had left the room.  She struggled to her feet, hoping to catch him before he was gone, but she wasn't fast enough.  She knew now how the bounty hunter had found a gas that would work on a Jedi, and how to protect herself against it.

Ludmilla put a hand to her head, and growled in disgust.  How long had he been here, watching all this misery and suffering?  And now, he suddenly realized that he was wrong?  And he still couldn't even be bothered to lift a finger to save the bounty hunter who had trapped her for him.  No wonder no one liked the Jedi anymore.

She checked her lightsaber, and staggered out of Mira's hideout, and made her way to the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, the poison club of Nar Shadaa.

There was a bouncer, who stared at her in shock.  Ludmilla was in no mood to deal with him, and knocked him out with one swift punch.  She shook her head, trying to clear it, and entered the poison club.  The fumes were thick and heavy, the atmosphere entirely impossible for a Human to breathe.  She pulled the Force to herself, focusing on the flow of energy around her until it had formed a small ball, completely enclosing her.  Inside her little ball of Force energy, the air was sweet and clean and refreshed itself constantly.  She set aside a tiny part of her mind to focus on keeping the barrier up, and entered the central part of the Jekk'Jekk Tarr.

The Quarren's voice suddenly came over the loudspeakers, announcing that the Human in the club was fair game for anyone and everyone.

"What is it about this moon that makes everyone ashamed to fight their own battles?" she growled, and drew her lightsaber.  The fumes from the club made all the aliens aggressive, and the bounty on her head made them eager.  However, none of them, whether fighting alone or together, were a match for a Jedi of her skill.  She fought her way through all the denizens of the Jekk'Jekk Tarr until she found a secret exit in the back.  This led to a series of tunnels, littered with the corpses of people who had tried to overthrow Visquis in the past and failed.  At the end was a locked door.  Ludmilla stared at it in frustration.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" she snapped to the empty air.

Suddenly an alarm went off, and the security failed, the door swinging open.

"Oh.  I guess I should trust in the Force."  Ludmilla entered the secret Exchange base.  "That was kind of cheesy, though.  I wonder who opened the door."

The guards in the base weren't normal mercenaries, or bounty hunters.  She stopped when she saw the first pair, in their distinctive green breathing masks.

"Ubese."  They blamed all Jedi, Dark or Light, for the horrors that had befallen their world.  They would eagerly accept any contract that involved killing a Jedi.

The Ubese threw grenades first, hoping to weaken her.  Stories of how to kill Jedi are handed down from generation to generation among the Ubese.

Ludmilla jumped, bouncing from one wall to another to avoid the grenades and closed with the Ubese warriors.  She put her lightsaber away.  Against their cortosis blades it would only be a handicap – the peculiar ore would short out a lightsaber for crucial seconds.  They knew a lot about how to deal with Jedi.  They did not, however, know how to deal with a Mandalorian.

She punched the closer of the two, the force of the blow cracking the breathing mask.  The Ubese choked, unable to breathe the atmosphere here.  She dodged the blade of the second, and dropped him with a savage kick to the stomach that cracked his environmental suit.  A hissing noise heralded his impending death.  More Ubese ran in, enraged at seeing their clan members fall.

"Trust in your armor, trust in your blades," she sang as she threw punches and kicks among the Ubese, using their numbers against them.  "Your armor is your strength, your blades are your soul."  Ubese armor wasn't like Mandalorian armor.  It wasn't meant for melee combat.  Mandalorian armor, on the other hand, was strong enough to protect its wearer while falling through atmosphere to the surface of a planet.  "Wear armor with pride, wield blades with honor," she sang as more Ubese came in to be beaten at her hands.  They were too careful of their clan to risk shooting into the combat or to use grenades.  "All Mandalore beneath the mask, one clan, one family, one hold!"  Their skills in melee combat were no match for a warrior trained at Mandalorian hands, let alone one who moved with the speed of a Jedi.  The last Ubese warrior fell, and Ludmilla drew her lightsaber again before running down the hall.

The Ubese here shot at her, but she deflected their blaster fire with her lightsaber.  Two shots bounced back perfectly, killing the Ubese who had fired them.  The final Ubese warrior turned to run, and Ludmilla threw her lightsaber, using the Force to control its arc and return.  The Ubese warrior fell to the ground, his armor shattered by the blow.  Ludmilla sensed one more sentient being in this area, and walked over to a large arena.  The bodies of Kath hounds lay scattered, blown apart by well-placed mines.  In the center of the arena stood the Quarren, Visquis.

"Where is Mira?" Ludmilla demanded.

"She has escaped," said the Quarren, his face tentacles twitching in agitation.  "But that is not important.  You have arrived, and we can have our meeting, at last."

The Quarren was telling the truth – Mira must have opened the door to the tunnels as part of her escape, Ludmilla realized.  "All right, we're meeting.  What did you want with me?"

"Human impatience.  Very well, we shall dispense with pleasantries.  You have disturbed the flow of business here on Nar Shadaa with your actions.  You have killed my underlings and employees.  You have made it difficult, if not impossible, for my organization to continue on a profitable basis in this sector."

"You're the ones who put a bounty on my head.  Now I've earned it," Ludmilla said calmly.

"Are you indeed the Exile, then?  I expected a different type of Jedi.  No matter.  My boss – my soon-to-be-deceased boss – is the one who has placed the monumental sum on your head.  Goto.  A mysterious man, who came from nowhere and is never seen.  It is not known to all, but the true reward for bringing you to him would enable any bounty hunter who captured you to buy their own planet."

"Goto?  Never heard of him."

"Few have," Visquis continued.  "And yet, his hands are everywhere, and in everything.  I do not know why he desires you to be captured alive, but he does.  And that is why you will be the perfect bait."  The Quarren equivalent of a smile involves moving face tentacles in a way that makes Humans very queasy, and Ludmilla had to look away before she lost her last meal.

The door next to where Ludmilla had entered opened, and a group of mercenaries in unfamiliar armor entered.  There was something slightly odd about the way they moved.

"Attack her!" Visquis commanded.  "Kill the Jedi."

"While the Jedi remains on Nar Shadaa," boomed a voice from the loudspeakers, "my eyes shall remain on her.  She is not to be harmed.  Were those not my instructions, Visquis?"

The Quarren fell to his knees, covering his head in fear, and the strange mercenaries ran past Ludmilla to attack Visquis.

"Let me guess," said Ludmilla.  "That's your boss, isn't it?"

"No!" shrieked the Quarren.  "You misunderstand, Goto!  The Jedi is a gift!"

"Enough," boomed the voice from the loudspeaker.  "Kill Visquis and bring the Jedi to me."

Ludmilla watched the mercenaries move and realized that they were droids, not men.  She frowned.  They were the most heavily armed and armored droids she had ever seen, and there were ten of them.  A single such droid would cost more than a battlecruiser.

"Jedi.  Will you come willingly?  Or must I command my servants to subdue you?"

Ludmilla deactivated her lightsaber and put it away.  She knew her limits.


	18. The Guardian

"Okay, who are you?" Atton demanded.  The red-haired bounty hunter tried to twist away, but he was holding her arm in a way that caused incredible pain if she tried to move.

"My name's Mira.  Look, Goto has your friend.  I'm not the enemy here."

"You led her into this trap," said Atton, trying to keep his anger under control.

"No, I didn't," Mira protested.

"What have you found, boy?" asked Kreia.  She had gone the other way, and was only now catching up to Atton.  Bao-Dur and Visas were watching the entrance.  "Another girl?  Surely we have enough of those by now."

Atton shook her a little, and Mira screamed in protest.  "She's a bounty hunter, and she was explaining what happened to Ludmilla."  He looked at Kreia curiously.  "What did you find?"

"I found a Wookie," said Kreia calmly.

"He was dead, right?" said Mira anxiously.

"You were telling us what happened to the Exile," said Kreia with imperturbable calm.

"Right," Mira said uncertainly.  "Visquis was going to double-cross Goto, but Goto got wind of it and took him out first.  And then his droids took the Jedi to his yacht.  She went willingly, I'm not sure why."

"Where were you during all this?" asked Kreia.

"Me?  I was right here, hiding."

Kreia turned and looked at the arena, then back at Mira.  "You were in range of their weapons, were you not?"

"She didn't know I was here.  Wait, you're saying she knew I was here?  And she didn't fight because she didn't want to get me killed?  That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Mira exclaimed.

Atton let go of the bounty hunter's arm.  "Great.  How are we going to get to Goto's yacht?"

"How would I know?" snapped Mira.

"Look, you're coming with us and you're going to tell us everything you know," snarled Atton.

"Says who?"

Kreia waved her hand and Mira dropped like a rock.  "The girl's chatter is most tiresome.  Bring her."

"You really have to teach me that move sometime," said Atton with grudging admiration.

Kreia laughed silently, and walked out of the secret base.

Atton lifted the bounty hunter with the Force and pretended to carry her back to the ship.  He tossed her carelessly on the floor of the main cabin.

"What is that?" asked Bao-Dur.

"She's a bounty hunter.  For some reason, Ludmilla let herself be captured so that she wouldn't get hurt."

"Don't be offended.  The General does that all the time.  When did Kreia teach you that trick with the Force Lightning?"

Atton flushed.  "She didn't.  I've always known it."

Bao-Dur looked at him in surprise.  "Why weren't you sent for training?  That kind of power is dangerous."

"We've been over this already.  Because all the Jedi who aren't Ludmilla and Kreia are monumentally stupid."  He looked at Bao-Dur.  "Why aren't you a Jedi?"

"Because I'm not very good at controlling my emotions," said Bao-Dur calmly.

Atton just stared at him.

"We're done talking about this.  Let's wake up our new friend here, and make a plan."  Bao-Dur looked at Atton again.  "Actually, I'll wake her up."

Atton grinned.  "I wasn't gonna hurt her.  Much."

Bao-Dur gently woke the bounty hunter.

"Ugh, what hit me?" she asked, glaring at Atton.  "I'm not going to be able to shoot straight for days, jerk.  You pinched a nerve.  My arm is killing me."

"You've got a spare."

"Atton."  Bao-Dur looked at him.  "Go get a drink, and find Visas and Kreia."

"Great," grumbled Mira.  "Just leave me alone with the demon, why don't you."

"And bring me a drink too, if you wouldn't mind."

Atton grinned, and returned shortly with Kreia and Visas in tow, carrying a tray of mugs of cider and chocolate.

"Is one of those for me?" asked Mira hopefully, reaching for the tray.

"What poisons are you immune to?" asked Atton.

"Never mind, I'm not thirsty."

Kreia smiled.

"Look," Mira tried to explain, "Goto's yacht is stealthed.  It's invisible, and no one can find it.  Trust me, if anyone knew how to find his ship, everybody with a gun and ship would be on their way out there to take him out.  The only thing that would draw him out is a Jedi, and she already took off to meet him."

"Isn't Goto the one who's been attacking Vogga the Hutt's freighters?" asked Bao-Dur.

Mira nodded.  "Yeah, Goto's got some way of tracking Vogga's ships.  But the Hutts closed the warehouse, and they're not sending out any more flights."

"Goto is probably tracking the transponder codes from Goto's ships," Bao-Dur mused.

"So if we changed the Ebon Hawk's transponder code, then Goto's yacht would come to us," said Atton.

"Probably," said Mira reluctantly.  "But you can't get the codes, they're kept in the warehouse.  You'd have to be a droid to get in there."

Atton grinned.  "T3?  Did you hear that?  You have to pretend to be a droid for once."

T3 beeped in response and drove in a circle around Atton.

"Don't give me that," snapped Atton.  "You get your own.  I don't care how many times you've heard it.  Now get your little rotors down to that warehouse and get us those codes."

T3 beeped and zipped off the Ebon Hawk to carry out his mission.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Mira.

"What was what?" asked Atton innocently.

"That droid that just took off.  You didn't program it or anything."

"It came pre-programmed," said Bao-Dur mildly.

"What he means is that the little machine is insane," snapped Kreia.  "It has a mind of its own and a learning program that can't be disabled or removed."

Mira stared at them.  "You're flying around with an insane utility droid."

Atton shrugged.  "He also cheats at Pazaak.  Oh, and he has some weapon upgrades and an incredible shield upgrade.  I'm not sure where he got that.  It's self-restoring.  He's pretty useful."

"He does not cheat at Pazaak," said Visas.

"What?"  Atton stared at her.  "Oh, and he has a thing for Jedi women.  Did I mention the thing for Jedi women?"

Visas blushed.  "Now you are being foolish."

"Are you all insane?" asked Mira.

The Exile's companions looked at each other.  "Yes," they all said at once, and broke into laughter.

"Visas, can you watch the prisoner until T3 comes back?" asked Bao-Dur.  "I need to do some work on the manifolds.  It sounds like we'll need all our speed when we run into Goto."

Kreia set down her empty mug.  "I will try to contact the Exile again.  I suspect that she is too far away, but I will try."  Kreia walked away, her robes swirling behind her.

Atton collected the empty mugs, and went down to the galley.

Bao-Dur went to the engine room, leaving Visas alone with Mira.

"Can you see anything through that cloth over your head?" asked Mira.

"I am a Miraluka," said Visas softly.  "I cannot see at all."

"Oh.  So how exactly are you supposed to watch me?"  Mira stood up.  "This is stupid.  You're all crazy."

Visas slammed the bounty hunter against the ceiling with the Force, then let her fall to the floor where she lay, stunned.

Bao-Dur poked his head out of the engine room.  "Careful with that, some of the ceiling tiles are loose.  We're trying not to kill the prisoner, remember?"

"Of course," said Visas softly.  "Please sit down.  T3 will not be gone long."

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" muttered Mira, rubbing at her new bruises.  "I thought your leader was supposed to be one of the good guys."

"She is," Visas assured her.

"Then why is everyone in her crew one step away from crazy murderer?"

"If you keep insulting us, you're going to bed without any supper," said Atton and set a tray down for Mira.

"Is it poisoned?"

"Why would that stop you?"

"Good point," Mira muttered, and began eating.  "This is really good," she said in surprise.  "Do you guys keep a chef locked up down there or something?"

"Something like that," said Atton.  He sat down at the table, pulled out his datapad, and began reading.

Mira looked around cautiously.  There was a knife on the tray.  She looked up again, to see that Atton was casually pointing a blaster at her.  "I didn't do anything."

"Just keeping it that way," said Atton, and holstered his blaster again.

Something clattered to the floor behind her, and Mira turned to see a long metal pipe slowly returning to its place on the wall.  She stared at the veiled woman still sitting silently at the table across from her.  "Didn't the demon just tell you to stop trying to kill me?"

"You would have survived the blow," said Visas calmly.  "Atton, is it in place properly?  It feels off."

Atton looked at the wall.  "One of the retaining bolts is loose.  Bao-Dur will fix it later.  Or Ludmilla will."  Atton looked at Mira's plate.  "Are you finished?"

Mira shook her head and went back to eating, banishing all thoughts of escape from her head.

T3 buzzed back to the ship, burbling happily.

"Oh, sweet!  New transponder codes!"

Mira stared in disbelief.  "No way, there's no way that droid broke into Vogga's warehouse and got the codes."

Atton held up the new ID cards.  "I'll just go stick these in the ship, and we'll be on our way.  Nice work, T3."

The droid clicked and whistled in excitement.

"Really?  Well, Ludmilla will be glad to have something new to do.  Personally, I think we have enough droids on the ship now."

T3 beeped some more, and Atton laughed in disbelief.

"You did not.  I'm sorry, I don't believe you.  One assassin droid, maybe.  But three?  C'mon, little guy, that's pushing it."

T3 followed Atton into the security room, chirping insistently.

"Well, you can tell Ludmilla all about it.  I'm sure she'll be fascinated.  Or your new girlfriend, Visas.  Ow!  Don't do that!  Seriously, that hurt."

Bao-Dur walked over to the security room.  "Everything in place?"

Atton nodded.  "Once we take off, we'll be broadcasting the ID of one of Vogga's freighters.  We should probably leave someone on the ship when we get picked up by Goto's yacht."

"I take it you're planning to go," smiled Bao-Dur.  "I'll stay.  I can get the ship ready for takeoff."

"I'm going with you," said Mira suddenly.  "What?  Don't look at me like that.  I can help!  Goto's got some serious defenses, and you're going to need all the help you can get."

"I'm sure you can help," said Atton, "but I don't want it.  You're staying here."

"Oh, so who are you going to take?  That decrepit old bag or the blind freak?"

"You know," said Atton as Mira slumped into unconsciousness, "I would have phrased that better if I was standing right in front of the person I was insulting."

"Or moved faster," Bao-Dur agreed.  "You realize that since all of us are picking on her, the General will go out of her way to be nice to her."

Visas replaced the pipe on the wall again.  "I apologize, Bao-Dur, but there seems to be something out of place on that section of the wall."

"I'll get it," said Bao-Dur.  "Are you going with Atton?"

Visas nodded.

"We'll take T3 with us, too," said Atton.  "We might run into some friendly databanks.  Or unfriendly security systems."

"Good idea," Bao-Dur agreed.  "But first, lock her in medbay or something."

Atton and Visas dragged Mira to the medbay and dropped her on the operating table, and Atton locked the door.

"Kreia?"

"Yes, boy?"

"I've locked the red haired bitch in the medbay.  She's out cold for the moment, but she'll wake up in an hour or two."

"Possibly more," said Visas softly.

Kreia smiled.  "I will watch her.  You are ready to go, are you not?  Bring her back, boy, or do not come back at all."

 

"You are not what I expected."  The hologram was of a middle-aged Human male, balding, scrawny, with the forehead of an intellectual.  He was holding a datapad, and looking her over curiously.

Ludmilla frowned.  Something was odd about the man, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"I am Goto," he introduced himself.  "I am one of the...  officials...  representing a conglomerate of the non-sanctioned trading interests in Republic space and some nearby systems.  I have a question for you.  Are you a Jedi?"

"I have no ties to the Jedi Order, if that's what you mean."

Goto frowned.  "Unexpected.  Still, you may have some value," he sighed.  "I have gone through considerable expense and effort to bring you here.  I have a proposal to set before you."

Ludmilla crossed her arms and looked at the hologram.  "You set every bounty hunter and assassin in this sector on me so that you could ask me a question?"

"I specifically requested that you be delivered alive.  I am unclear as to how my instructions got corrupted.  You are of no use to me dead.  However, if you were truly a Jedi, mere bounty hunters would have been no deterrent.  And my calculations proved correct, and you have proven that you can indeed assist me."

Ludmilla watched the hologram closely as he spoke.  "Okay, so you want me alive.  You have a strange method for contacting people.  Couldn't you have just sent a polite letter?  Messenger, maybe?  Most people don't try to ask for help by putting a price on someone's head."

"I am not in the habit of asking for assistance.  You are a very difficult person to find.  Even after that incident on Peragus, tracking your movements has been...  problematic.  The Jedi were meant to be defenders of the galaxy, and specifically, of the Republic.  However, what has happened at Peragus has set in motion events that I can no longer control.  Not to be melodramatic, but I fear it has broken the Republic...  irrevocably.  This has occupied much of my attention, and there seems to be no predictable way to resolve the situation."

Ludmilla raised an eyebrow.  "You hunted me down and risked getting me killed so you could ask me to save the Republic?"  Her eyes narrowed as she watched the hologram.  His body language was unusual, for a Human.  He was very still, and his face was almost completely expressionless.  "And you're being slightly melodramatic."

"In approximately one Standard month, the Republic will collapse," said Goto.  His voice was irritated, but his movements were still calm, as if the hologram didn't reflect the actual speaker.  "Not due to war, or secession, or any outside force.  It will collapse from within, because the infrastructure of the Republic will no longer be able to support itself.  The Republic lost the Jedi Civil War.  The Republic was already on the verge of collapse at the end of the Mandalorian wars, and your petty religious squabbles following immediately on the heels of the Mandalorian wars sounded the death-knell of the Republic."  Goto – and the hologram – sighed in frustration.  "Revan departed into the Unknown Regions, leaving the Republic without a solid leader.  The Senate, though well-meaning, is ultimately ineffective in such a dire situation.  The armed forces are reluctant to take leadership, because it would give the appearance of a military coup and further destabilize an already unstable situation.  And the Jedi Council is gone."

"There's a shock," said Ludmilla dryly.  She noticed that the hologram was moving more now, and suspected that Goto had noticed her scrutiny.

"In times past," said Goto with evident irritation, "the Jedi Council has provided able leadership in times of crisis, allowing the Republic to bridge stressful events and avoid a total collapse.  But now it seems that any and every possible leader that could serve the Republic has been eliminated by an unknown force.  I cannot find any pattern in these attacks, and it is a source of frustration to me.  There is some clue, however, that perhaps the Jedi are linked to these attacks – or that the targets are significant in some way I have yet to discover.  It is also significant," said Goto, the hologram looking directly at her, "that you have survived where others have fallen."

"Are you working with the Sith?"

Goto shook his head.  "I do not wish to help the Sith any more than I wish to help the Jedi.  It is simply important to me that the in-fighting amongst these Jedi religious branches be resolved so the galaxy may be put back together.  It is not significant to me which one triumphs, only that the fighting cease long enough for the Republic to recover from these constant crises."

"You're a crimelord.  Why do you care about the Republic?"

Goto smiled.  "You could say I am something of a...  patriot.  I was not in a position to be of assistance during the Mandalorian wars or against Revan and Malak.  However, I am now.  The problem is that I can find no side to choose.  Both are hidden from me, as they seem to be hiding from each other.  Irritating.  It is not an equitable game.  I dislike it, but I intend to win nevertheless."

"Well, I can help you with that at least.  I've seen the alternatives, and the Republic is the best option we have right now."

"Agreed.  It is, of course, in your best interests as well.  These unknown Sith are really quite efficient, and they have almost completely eradicated the Jedi from this sector.  If they eliminate you, there will be nothing to stop them."

Ludmilla decided not to correct him.  "So, you'll be letting me go then?  Did you have a target for me?"

"You misunderstand," frowned Goto.  "I cannot set you free at this time.  Your presence seems to invite catastrophe, and the status quo really cannot suffer another."

"What?"

"Peragus."

"That wasn't my fault!" Ludmilla protested.

"The impending collapse of the Czerka Corporation?"

Ludmilla didn't respond.

"And I'm not even going to bring up what is happening on Nar Shadaa."

"Okay, I – "

A series of loud alarms started going off throughout the ship.  The hologram of Goto turned as if to look at a console, then back at her with thinly veiled disgust.

"What is that?" she demanded.

"That," said Goto, "is the proximity alarm.  It would appear that my yacht is being boarded.  Somehow, your friends have found you."  The hologram winked off.  "You will remain here, under guard," Goto's voice boomed from the overhead speakers.  "I must see to the defenses of my ship."

Ludmilla smiled at first, then started laughing aloud.  She sat down to wait, still chuckling to herself.

 

Atton and Visas stepped into Goto's yacht, with T3 buzzing behind them.

Visas looked around in confusion.  "I do not sense anything living on this ship."

"You're right," Atton agreed.  "The air here is too cold.  It's probably full of droids.  Saves money, and they're all loyal."  Atton grinned.  "Oh, look, a console.  T3, let's take a look at Mr. Goto's security systems, shall we?"

T3 hooked into the console, and started investigating.

"Droids could be formidable opponents for us," said Visas doubtfully.

T3 paused in his downloading to burble an explanation.

"Really?" said Atton.  "I've never tried that."

"It should work," said Visas gently.  "If not, they will still take damage from being thrown."

"Tell you what, I'll try zapping them like T3 said, and you do the throwing."

"All right," Visas agreed.

T3 disconnected, and led them to a door, whistling a quick warning.

"Okay, we're ready."

The door opened, and a group of security droids turned to face them.  Atton sent a surge of Force energy at them that stunned them, and Visas sent a shockwave that threw the droids against the wall.  The two activated their lightsabers and charged into the group, ripping the stunned security droids apart while T3 shot down the maintenance droids that kept trying to repair them.

Visas smiled.  "That was fun."

"Hey, you're pretty when you smile," said Atton.  "You should do it more."

Visas blushed.  "You do not need to flatter me."

"Okay, I won't.  T3, isn't she pretty when she smiles?"

T3 beeped in assent, and Visas giggled.

"Wait, Sith don't giggle.  Make her stop that."

T3 burbled again.

"What?  That's just crazy talk.  I'm ignoring you.  Come on, let's go."

They continued down the corridors, fighting more droids with the same strategy, until they came to a large barrier door.  Atton stopped and stared at it.  "She's back there.  Somewhere."

"You are linked that strongly to her?"

"What?  No, I can smell her perfume.  She uses a floral essence with an unusual musky base note, it lasts for hours.  She definitely came this way."

Visas decided not to question him.  "So we must find a way to open this door."

"There will probably be even more droids back there.  T3, let's see what we can do with this console."

Atton and T3 bent over the console, and Visas surreptitiously sniffed the air.

"Hey," said Atton, "I heard that."

Visas flushed, but didn't say anything.

T3 overrode the control systems for the turrets, causing a severe malfunction.  T3 chirped in embarrassment as the turrets in the hallway beyond began firing indiscriminately.

"Well, it worked out okay," said Atton.  "We'll just wait."

The firing continued, and they heard droid after droid fall, and turrets explode one after the other.  The firing stopped after a few minutes.

"Should we try to open the door now?"

"Why not?" Atton grinned.  He got the door open, and the one lone remaining turret fired a desultory shot at him.  He bounced it off his lightsaber, and the blast went right back to the turret, destroying it.  "Cool!"

Visas giggled again, and T3 made a little cheering noise.

They ran down the hall, and found another security door.  Atton easily got it open, and Ludmilla pounced on him in joy.

Visas blushed as she listened to them kiss and turned to T3.  T3 burbled a question.

"What?  No, I don't know.  I don't think so.  Maybe?" she said in confusion.  Ludmilla and Atton pulled away from each other, laughing uncontrollably.

"T3," said Ludmilla as soon as she could speak, "why would you even ask that?"

"And no," said Atton, holding his sides, "I'm not answering that."

Ludmilla gave Visas a hug in gratitude, and Visas almost jumped in shock.  "Let's get going.  My lightsaber is locked in one of these boxes here," and she led them to the next room.

After recovering her lightsaber, they made their way to what should have been the bridge of the ship, seeking Goto himself.

"This ship is creepy," said Atton.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone on board," said Visas.  "But that's impossible."

"Not exactly," said Ludmilla, and T3 burbled in agreement.

"What?  That makes no sense," complained Atton.

The door to the bridge opened to a large room, filled with computer banks, collecting financial and political data from every corner of the Republic.  "I think I'm beginning to understand," said Ludmilla slowly.  T3 squealed with excitement and connected to the main console.

"Really?  I'm more confused than ever.  Where is everyone?"  Atton examined some of the computers.  "Look at all this data.  T3, I hope you're helping yourself to some good stuff here."

T3 chirped in joy and continued his raid on Goto's systems.

"I fear that Goto has escaped us," said Visas softly.  "I do not sense anyone besides us on this ship."

"No," said Ludmilla absently.  "T3, we have to get going.  How do we get the Ebon Hawk loose?"

"There's some kind of tractor beam holding us in place, and with the cloak still on Goto's yacht, we'll be flying blind," said Atton.

"So we need to cut the power to both systems."  Ludmilla brought up the map on the console, looking not at the room designations but at the power schematics.  "Here.  Let's go."

Ludmilla led them down to the room where the power station controlling the tractor beam was located.

"Jedi," said Goto's voice from overhead, "surrender now or your companions will be injured beyond repair."

"What does he mean by that?" asked Atton.  "Is it just me," he coughed, "or is the air – "

"Goto, stop!" shouted Ludmilla.

Visas and Atton crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  T3 burbled in concern.

Ludmilla snarled in rage.  "T3, get that power off, now!  We have to get out of here!"

"Jedi, you will not be able to escape.  Your droid is helpless as well."

T3 squeaked in mocking denial, and zipped over to the console, unaffected by Goto's signal.

"What?  You impertinent little – do not speak to me that way," Goto commanded.

T3 ignored the voice and continued his work with the console while Ludmilla wrapped Visas and Atton in a Force bubble to protect them from inhaling more of the gas.

"This is impossible," said Goto in frustration, and T3 succeeded.  The cloak dropped, and the ship was now visible.

"Warning," said a standard computer warning voice.  "Multiple incoming hostiles detected."

"Nobody likes you, Goto."  Ludmilla started for the exit, pulling the Force bubble behind her with T3 following.

"Warning," said the computer voice again.  "The ship has been boarded."

"Oh, that's not good," said Ludmilla.

The droids started shooting at the boarders, those that didn't immediately succumb to the gas.  Ludmilla dodged as much of the fighting as she could, as the Force bubble protecting her companions wouldn't stop blaster fire.

T3 zipped to a console, and made a quick change to the programming controlling a nearby security droid.  The newly reprogrammed droid lifted the two unconscious forms and activated its shield at full strength.

"Thanks, T3," said Ludmilla gratefully.  She activated her lightsaber.  "That will make this a lot easier.  Let's just go in a straight line."  The bright blue blade flashed again and again, cutting down all the bounty hunters in her path while T3 led her to the docking bay where the Ebon Hawk was.  The hatch opened, and Ludmilla took her companions from the hijacked security droid, leaving it to defend the corridor while they disconnected from Goto's yacht.  The ship pulled away, unnoticed, while every bounty hunter and ambitious Exchange boss in the region took a shot at Goto's crippled yacht.

"You truly are a walking disaster," said Goto's voice as the yacht exploded, taking a number of ships with it.

Ludmilla jumped, and T3 squealed in surprise.  Behind them, a spherical black droid with a single red optical unit was floating.

"How did you get on my ship?" demanded Ludmilla.

"Do you realize that by crippling the Exchange, you have completely destabilized the criminal element in this sector?"

"Pardon me if I don't lose any sleep over that," said Atton as he staggered to his feet.

"Answer my question."

"Your ship's defenses are pathetic.  I shall begin an upgrade of your entrance controls immediately, assuming that ridiculously overpowered astromech droid is amenable," grumbled Goto's voice from the droid.

"You were never on the yacht, were you?" said Ludmilla.  "It was all a blind.  You were controlling the droids remotely, and made everyone think the only way to find you was to board the yacht."

"You are intelligent," said Goto grudgingly, "another unexpected development."

"So what are you doing on my ship?"

"I am trying to mitigate your propensity to cause interstellar catastrophes," snarled Goto.  "This droid will permit me to keep you under observation and to relay information to you that might possibly influence you to take the path of least disaster."

Bao-Dur snickered.  "He must not know you very well, General."

"The droid will also serve as another layer of protection for you.  I have noticed that despite your annoyingly long list of competencies, security and computer use are not among them."

"I don't have the patience for it," Ludmilla snapped.

"An understatement of epic proportions," replied Goto.  "If your interrogation is complete, I will now proceed to confer with your altered T3 unit on upgrading the ship's onboard security and navigation."

Before Ludmilla could reply, Bao-Dur gently pushed the still slightly dazed Atton into her arms, and gestured to the droid.  "Follow me," said Bao-Dur.  "Stop aggravating the General."

Atton laughed at the look on Ludmilla's face, and kissed her.

Ludmilla smiled, and decided she would concentrate on what was important right now, and kissed Atton back.  After one more kiss, Ludmilla carried Visas to her cabin to recover, and Atton brought her a glass of warm milk and cookies.  Visas woke almost immediately.

"Oh, thank you, Atton," she said with a smile, and devoured the cookies.

"Well, I'm glad you two are friends now," grinned Ludmilla.

"Uh oh," said Atton.

Ludmilla looked at him curiously.

"We united against a common enemy," Atton explained.  "I think she's still locked in medbay."  Atton ran off, and Ludmilla followed him, shaking her head.

Mira banged on the door as she heard footsteps approaching.  "Let me out!" she screamed.  "Let me out of here!"

"Is that the bounty hunter?" asked Ludmilla in confusion as Atton unlocked the door.

"You're all crazy!  Let me off this ship!" Mira screamed, and Atton ran to the galley, leaving Ludmilla to deal with the enraged bounty hunter.

"Oh, hello, Mira.  What are you doing on my ship?"

"Being attacked, held prisoner, knocked unconscious, you name it," Mira stepped quickly out of medbay so that she couldn't be locked in again.  "Just drop me off on Nar Shadaa, anywhere.  It will be safer than this ship full of monsters."

Ludmilla smiled gently.  "We're heading back to Nar Shadaa now, calm down.  I'm sorry if they overreacted.  But, that reminds me," Ludmilla went to find Goto.  The droid was in the security room, working with T3.  "Goto, I need to make a call to Telos IV."

"What is that?" said Mira in confusion.

"I am using this droid to communicate with the Exile," Goto explained.  "And who should I be calling on Telos IV?"

"Lieutenant Grenn, head of the Telos Security Forces."

"You are connected," said Goto.  "Go ahead."  A small communication hologram of Lt.  Grenn appeared.

"Hello, Lt.  Grenn."

"General Sîvoš?"

"I have a message for you," Ludmilla grinned.  "Vogga the Hutt will be contacting you shortly regarding an alternate fuel source for the Telos facility."

If a floating droid could bounce angrily, Goto's droid did just that.

"What?" said Grenn in shock.

"The Hutts were having some transit issues, but they've been cleared up now.  Fuel from Sleheyron has been piling up, and they're as eager to sell as the Republic will be to buy.  I think all that indemnity money from Czerka will come in handy now."

Grenn just stared at her, and Goto turned the droid so that the red optical unit was focused directly on her.

"That was all I had to say, Grenn.  I'll be going now."  She nodded at Goto to cut the connection, and the hologram flickered away.

"You...  I did not consider that alternative.  That would not have worked, under ordinary circumstances," said Goto slowly.

"I don't get to work with ordinary circumstances," said Ludmilla calmly.  "I don't suppose you want to call Vogga the Hutt?"

"That would be extremely inadvisable."

"That thing is connected to Goto?  Where's my money, Goto?"

The droid turned to Mira.  "Mira.  What are you demanding payment for?"

"For the Jedi, of course."

"You are mistaken on a great number of levels, Mira.  You did not deliver the bounty to me.  If anything, the only person who can collect the bounty would be the Jedi herself.  Unfortunately, and much more importantly, the Jedi has destroyed all my available disposable income.  No one is getting paid for anything."

Ludmilla laughed.  "Sorry, Mira.  I guess I'm not really worth that much after all."


	19. Angel of the Morning

They landed on Nar Shadaa again, and Mira led Ludmilla to meet with Master Ell.  The rest of the crew unanimously decided to stay on the ship.  Ludmilla just shook her head, but decided the issue wasn't worth pursuing since Mira wasn't going to be part of the crew.

"Here we are," said Mira, "home stinky home."  She led Ludmilla to a small, hidden warehouse just off the docks.

"This is the same place where you gassed me."

"Don't worry," said the voice that she had heard in her half-slumber.  "We have no designs on you this time."  The door opened to reveal a middle-aged Human man, with heavy-set features and dark eyes.

"Master Ell," Ludmilla said as she entered the room.

"We meet under very different circumstances," he said.  "Mira, would you excuse us?"

"Sure," grumbled Mira, "I'm going to check on my traps."  She opened another hidden door, and entered a small bedroom, leaving Ludmilla alone with Master Ell.

Ludmilla watched her leave curiously.  "You live here?" she asked Master Ell.

"Sometimes.  I have a few hideouts scattered all over Nar Shadaa.  I never expected you to come here.  Master Kavar suspected that you might return from your exile, to wander your old battlefields.  But not to come here, not to a place like this."  Master Ell sighed, and sat down on a makeshift chair formed from boxes and scrap metal.  "You were always hard to read.  Even when you were part of the Order and tied to the Force, and more so when it was lost to you."

"I'm surprised Master Kavar even thought of me at all," said Ludmilla.  She leaned against the wall, crossed her arms.  "I didn't think any of you thought I would survive long enough to return."

"He thought much of you, and wished that things had turned out differently.  He wished that your talents had found another way to come to light than in the fires of war.  He believed that you – the worlds you had touched during the wars – these were key in understanding the threats that we face.  But the others were not so certain."

"Where are all the Jedi?  Where has everyone gone?"

Master Ell sighed heavily.  "Many have given up the Order.  Others have scattered – not to hide, but to try and draw out our enemies.  We have found that whenever we gather, we are vulnerable – as on Katarr, or Dantooine.  So we have chosen places where it is difficult to sense others through the Force...  whether on planets dense with life, or touched by war.  In such places, we may conceal ourselves, gather information – without presenting ourselves as targets.  It was part of Kavar's plan."

"Plan?"

"Kavar wanted to draw them out.  By retreating, by hiding ourselves, he hoped that they would deem themselves victorious and emerge from the shadows.  Too, we knew that we could not continue as we were.  There were not enough of us.  I have not heard from the others in some time.  How did you find me?"

"I found a record of your location in Atris' database."

"Atris?"

"She's on Telos, hiding like you are."

"But...  I thought that Atris had gone to Katarr."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "She is alive, and still bitterly disappointed that I am too."

"You are too hard on her," said Master Ell.  "That is good news, the first I have heard in a while.  She holds the last of the Jedi teachings.  That she has survived is a good augury for the future."

"Why didn't you go to Katarr?" she asked curiously.  "It was a conclave, wasn't it?  All Jedi are supposed to gather when called to a conclave."

Master Ell looked down at the ground.  "There were...  things that kept me tied to this place.  I could not go."

Ludmilla raised an eyebrow.  "That's an odd phrasing," she said slowly.  "So, what happened on Katarr?"

"Our numbers had been diminishing rapidly.  Jedi were disappearing, anytime two or more gathered, something would happen.  An accident.  Their ships would disappear.  They would walk out of sight and never be seen again.  Finally, there were less than a hundred of us left who were still active in the Order.  We called a conclave, believing that our numbers would be sufficient to prevent any thinly-veiled assassination attempts.  But they struck in a way that we could not have imagined.  The entire world was destroyed, because the Jedi chose to gather there.  The entire colony of Miraluka on Katarr was completely wiped out, as well as all the Jedi who had gone there."

"You never checked, did you?" asked Ludmilla.  "No one went to Katarr to search for survivors."  What if a Jedi had found Visas first?  Saved her from the Dark Side?  Why wasn't anyone willing to be a Jedi anymore, she asked herself.

"Survivors?"  Master Ell looked at her in disbelief.  "Even from here, I felt it.  Katarr was wiped out, something devoured the entire world.  The Jedi who fell there couldn't even become one with the Force.  This thing – this power – it leaves wounds in the Force where it strikes.  Holes that can never be filled."

"So you hid here," Ludmilla tried not to snarl.  "Instead of trying to do anything, you hid here."

"Our presence, our numbers, placed not just ourselves at risk, but everyone around us.  When we were seen, we were struck down.  When we gathered, we were wiped out.  Should we have endangered everything around us?  Should we have risked what happened on Katarr happening on worlds like Coruscant?  How were we supposed to fight an enemy that would not reveal itself?  Kavar's plan was the best hope for success.  He had seen more war than any of us, we trusted his judgment.  The tactics were sound."

"The tactics were foolish and short-sighted," snapped Ludmilla.  "If you needed someone to fight a war, you knew where to find a victorious general.  But you cast me out of the Order, and refused to admit that you were wrong.  Or that you needed help," she said bitterly.

"The day we cast you out, that is the moment I decided to leave the Order.  Because I do not believe we truly faced the reasons you were exiled, and if we do not examine such truths, then we are already lost.  We told you that we cast you out because you had chosen to follow Revan to war.  But why, then, did we spare Kavar and other Masters who had answered the call of the Republic?  We were blinding ourselves to the flaws of our Order, to the inconsistencies in our rules and how we applied them.  We saw you severed from the Force, and we feared what would happen if you stayed.  Living with the Force is already difficult enough," he said sadly.

Ludmilla looked at the door where Mira had disappeared.  "What are you doing on Nar Shadaa?"

"I came here to find something," said Master Ell.  "And I found more than I bargained for.  Your Mandalorian eyes have already seen it."

"What did you come here for in the first place?"

"I came seeking my Padawan.  He had followed in your footsteps, and gone to the wars.  He fought under Revan's banner, and survived Malachor V.  And like all the others who went there, he fell to the Dark Side.  And yet, I can still sense him.  His fall is not complete.  If I could find him, perhaps I could save him."

Ludmilla stared at him in disbelief.  "So you've been here for years, and you still haven't found him?"

Master Ell flushed.  "The noise of this world makes it impossible to find someone using the Force."

"Did you try stepping outside?" she asked dryly.

"It's a little more complicated than that."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "No, it really isn't."  She decided not to bother telling Master Ell any more.  "You cut me off from the Force, and I am still more connected to it than you are."

"We did no such thing," said Master Ell gently.  "You were cut off from the Force by your own actions."

"I did not fall to the Dark Side," she said firmly.  "I don't care what the Council thought, or what you think."

Master Ell sighed.  "I do not understand it fully myself.  But I do believe that right now, you are on the side of the Light.  And that is why I'm going to ask one more favor of you."

Ludmilla looked at him, startled.

"If what you say is true, and Atris is alive, your actions have started a chain of events that will no doubt bring our enemies out of the shadows.  We, what remains of the Council, must gather again on Dantooine.  This was Kavar's plan.  If I must leave this place, then I can no longer protect her."

"Uh...  this is a bad idea, for many reasons that I don't want to go into right now."

"You will need allies on your journey.  She will be safer with you than staying here, alone."

"I don't think she wants to come with me," blushed Ludmilla.  "This is a bad, bad idea."

"It is the will of the Force," said Master Ell calmly.

"Yeah, you're going to tell her that."

"Tell who what?" said Mira.  "Are you two done with your secret Jedi talk?  I'm hungry, and there isn't enough here for a guest," she glared pointedly at Ludmilla.

Master Ell smiled gently, and began to explain.

 

Ludmilla walked back onto the ship in silence.

"Hey," Atton greeted her with a kiss, then stopped.  "You've got some red-haired crap stuck on you.  Want me to get rid of it?"

"Atton, please."  Ludmilla put her hands to her head.  "I just got her to stop yelling at me."

"I can make her stop yelling," Atton smiled, "although Visas is a lot better at it."

"See?" snapped Mira.  "This is what I'm talking about!"

Ludmilla groaned and walked away to go fix something on the ship, anything that would keep her away from the bickering.

Kreia gave her about ten minutes.  "You are a leader.  Lead.  This is ridiculous."  She had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the yelling.

Ludmilla continued tightening bolts on the ceiling tiles.  "I'm waiting for them to finish throwing all of their toys out of the crib."

Atton, Visas, and Mira all fell silent suddenly.

Ludmilla chuckled.  "Oh, that got your attention, I see.  So are you all done now?"

None of the three said anything.

"Good, you're done.  The next one who starts mouthing off is going to get thrown in the brig.  I know we don't have one, but I'll make one if I have to.  Atton, do we have all the supplies we need?"

"I have to double-check," he said, trying not to be sullen.

"Then check, please.  Mira, help him.  Not one word," she said warningly as Mira was about to protest.  "Just do it, because you know what we can find on Nar Shadaa and what we can't.  Visas, can you get Bao-Dur for me?  He's still hiding in the engine room, and I need to know if the ship is ready to leave."

"Of course," said Visas politely, and went to find Bao-Dur.  Atton and Mira went to check the ship's supplies.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," said Kreia calmly.  "You're very good at that."

"I suspect Atton will try to get himself thrown into the imaginary brig, just because."

"I'm sure both of you will enjoy it," Kreia smiled.  "What did you learn from Master Ell?"

"That he's a coward and a hypocrite," said Ludmilla as she gave the bolts a particularly vicious twist.

"Indeed?"

"Mira is his daughter."

Kreia didn't reply.

"Yeah, he didn't even know he had one until he got here.  That's why he's been hiding on Nar Shadaa all this time.  I'm still not clear if she knows or not, and at this point, I don't even care.  I used to attract soldiers to me.  Now I'm collecting messed up kids.  What is wrong with me?"

"What is wrong, indeed?" mused Kreia.  "What is it that the Mandalorians say?  Take what makes you stronger, leave what makes you weaker...."

"And fix what is broken."  Ludmilla jumped off the ladder.  "But I can't figure out what is broken."

"Then perhaps you should take a break?" suggested Kreia.

Ludmilla considered.  "That's not a bad idea.  As usual.  Why didn't I just talk to you earlier?"

"Because you are a foolish, headstrong child, and easily distracted.  You are also unnecessarily proud of your abilities and you dislike delegating authority."

"Ouch."

"But you do take constructive criticism well."

"Also," said Atton as he walked past with a datapad in his hands, "you've got a great ass."

"Excuse me," said Ludmilla, and tossed Atton over her shoulder.  Hanging upside down, he continued reading his datapad as if nothing unusual was happening as Ludmilla carried him away.  "I'll be back later."

"That wasn't actually what I had in mind when I suggested that you take a break," said Kreia dryly.

"Will of the Force!" Ludmilla called out, and disappeared into the cargo hold.

"Indeed," smiled Kreia.  "More than you know."

 

Atton set down the datapad and wrapped his arms around her as she set him on the floor.  "I'm sorry I was being a spoiled brat earlier," he grinned.

"Don't tell Kreia this," she whispered as she kissed him, "but I think it's cute."

"There you go, acting like you're hundreds of years older than me again," he kissed her back.  "How do you even know how old I am?"

She pulled off his jacket, and started to undo the buckle of his pants.  "Remember when we were arrested on Telos?"  She moved him so that he was leaning against the wall.

"Oh yeah," he murmured, and watched in fascination as she slid to her knees.  "They said my birth year, but nothing for you and Kreia.  So, how old are you?"

"Older than you, younger than Kreia, and not too old to enjoy myself.  Now stop asking me questions."  Ludmilla had a much better use for her tongue at the moment, and took him into her mouth, tasting him.  She slid her tongue over his shaft, exploring, listening to his moans of pleasure and excitement.  She noticed that he kept his hands on the wall, at his sides.  His head thrown back, his eyes closed, whimpering, crying out as she pleasured him.  He shuddered and clenched his fists as she took all of him into her mouth, and she flicked her tongue over him, teasing him sweetly.  He gasped, and thrust into her mouth, filling her with his salty sweetness and crying out uncontrollably.  She eagerly licked him clean, and held him up as he practically melted into her arms.

"How do you get wound up so tightly?" she grinned as she lay him on the bed.

Atton smiled weakly in response, and kissed her, pulled her down next to him so that he could rest his head on her breasts.

"And I've noticed that you rather enjoy being treated like a child sometimes.  Or rather, you like it when I boss you around."  Her voice was slightly questioning, and Atton smiled at her.

"I do," he admitted.  "You said you liked being in charge, and I like letting you make decisions for me."

She smiled in relief.  "All right then.  Just making sure."  She pulled off her top, and tossed it aside.  "Come here."

Atton smiled, and obeyed her command.


	20. Singed Wings

"Why Onderon?" asked Kreia curiously.

Ludmilla shrugged.  "Why not?"

"Isn't there some guy from the Council hiding out there?" Atton asked.  He set another bowl of cream in front of Mira for her berries and started peeling another fruit for Visas.

"Kavar," said Ludmilla shortly.  "The one who lost his job as leader of the Republic forces to Revan."

Bao-Dur laughed into his cider.

"Atton, why aren't you wearing any clothes?" asked Mira.  "I've been meaning to ask you that for the last hour."

Atton laughed, and handed Visas a plate of fresh fruit.  He was wearing the silk wrap again, because he had discovered that it annoyed Mira as well as Bao-Dur when he did, and had the added bonus of attracting Ludmilla's hands.

"Just ignore him, Mira," sighed Ludmilla.  She was wearing a shirt and shorts, in deference to Kreia's icy glare when she had originally tried to come to the table in a towel.

"Oh, yeah," Atton remembered, "T3 wanted to show you something.  I think he found more parts for that broken droid in the storage room."

"Really?  He didn't mention it.  That's odd."

"Everything about that droid is odd," said Mira.

"Who?  T3?"  Atton looked at her in confusion.

"He cheats at Pazaak and he tried to get me to take off my shirt!"

Ludmilla and Bao-Dur both almost choked on their drinks.

"Why?" asked Atton.  "You're half-naked as it is."

"Oh, like you should talk!" snapped Mira.

Ludmilla laughed and went to go find T3.  "Oh, there you are," she greeted the little droid.  He was working on the shields with Bao-Dur's Remote, and Goto was working on the weapon systems.  "I hear you found some parts."

T3 beeped excitedly, and drove over to the storage room, Ludmilla following.  She took the parts from him, and started examining them.

"You know, T3, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."  She put the parts down again and looked at the little droid.

T3 clicked in question.

"How did you even get here?  I mean, with the ship.  And Kreia.  Did she find you?  Or did you find her?"

T3 whistled uncertainly.

"Oh come on, you can tell me."

The droid clicked and whistled.

"You're dodging the question.  Don't give me that, you know perfectly well what I mean."

T3 whistled a suggestion.

"Really?  Okay, then, play the message."

A small hologram appeared of a handsome man in the uniform of a Republic Admiral.  From his looks, he had spent most of his life in hyperspace – he looked far too young to be an Admiral.

"T3," the hologram spoke in a rich, deep voice, "she's going to leave.  She's got that look in her eyes, and she won't tell me what she's planning.  I know it will be dangerous.  She's given me a mission, and I can't turn my back on it.  But there's a chance she'll take you with her.  If she does, I need you to watch over her.  She's strong, T3, but she can't do everything alone.  If something goes wrong, come back here and get help.  There will be other Jedi who can help, or me, or any of our friends.  Just… I can't lose her, T3.  Even if she wants to be lost."

Ludmilla frowned.  "Who was that, T3?  Why was he giving you orders?"

The droid beeped happily.

"A friend.  That's remarkably non-specific.  Who was he talking about?"

T3 beeped again.

"Another friend.  Don't your friends have names, T3?"

T3 spun in a circle and whistled.

"Well, if they're important secrets, I guess you should keep them.  It's just…." her voice trailed off as she thought it over.  Although capable of a great deal of independence, even T3 couldn't go against his programming.  So was he still trying to help his missing friend?  Why had the man directed T3 to a Jedi first, rather than the Republic?  "You know, all that still doesn't tell me where the Ebon Hawk came from, T3."

T3 zipped away without answering.

Ludmilla shook her head, and then noticed that T3 had taken the droid parts with him.  She looked curiously at the broken droid again, then left to go find Atton.

She found him carrying his things out of the pilot's cabin.  "What are you doing?"

Atton grinned.  "Well, I never sleep there, and Mira refuses to bunk with Visas or Kreia."

"Oh."  She watched him cheerfully stowing his few belongings in the cargo hold.  "Why won't she bunk with Visas?"

"Because she keeps trying to kill me," snapped Mira.  She threw her bags down in the pilot's cabin.  "And I'm not sleeping in the medbay, because they'll just lock me in again."

"You would have survived," said Visas calmly.

"Visas," said Ludmilla as she put her hands to her head.

"I have some cleaning to do," Visas said quickly as she ran down the stairs to the galley.

Ludmilla sighed and shook her head.

"And since you're busy hooking up power couplings with someone who's five years younger than you, I don't see why he has to take up this cabin."

Ludmilla closed her eyes, and counted the engine cycles before speaking.

"Hah!  Shows what you know," grinned Atton, "she's at least ten years older."

Even without turning to see him, she knew that Atton was sticking his tongue out at Mira.

"What?" said Mira in shock.  "She doesn't look that old."

"She was a Knight before the Mandalorian wars started, and she's been in Exile for ten years," Atton smiled.

"Oh my goodness, she's probably old enough to be your mother," said Mira in disgust.  "That's so gross!"

"I'm standing right here."

"You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Atton, standing behind her, put his arms around her waist and rested his head against her back.  "And she's still hotter than you."

Mira glared at him, then looked at Ludmilla again.  "How do you stay in shape?  Is it a Jedi thing?"

"Okay, this discussion is over.  Go put your things away."

"No wonder you treat us all like kids."

"Now."

Mira retreated to her new cabin.

Bao-Dur walked past her, trying not to laugh, and failing.

"You be quiet, old man."

Bao-Dur chuckled quietly and went to the galley to get some more cider.

Atton kissed the back of her neck.  "Much hotter than that red-haired skank."

"I heard that!"

"Whatever," grinned Atton.  His next sentence was lost, as Ludmilla put a hand over his mouth.  He kissed her fingers, then licked her hand suggestively.

She turned around, and pulled him into her arms for a kiss.

"Seriously?" Mira called out.  "Didn't you two just finish?"

Ludmilla sighed in exasperation, and dragged an unresisting Atton back to the cargo hold so that she wouldn't have to listen to Mira any more.


	21. Wrath, pt. 2

"Your Shadow Hand has forsaken you."  The man – if he could be called a man – was tall, covered in scars.  He looked like he should have died from his wounds years ago.  His voice was dark and deep, and his face twisted in pain.

The other – a tall man, enveloped in a long, ragged black cloak, his face hidden by a white mask with the semblance of a face painted on it – strode angrily across the room.  He answered not with his voice but with thoughts that seemed to crawl inside one's head like worms in rotten flesh.  She will return, he answered, she will return when I call her.

The scarred man laughed.  "Then call her.  You have lost her, as you have lost everything else."

The man in the mask looked at the other.  She will return, he said again.  You will see, he said voicelessly, and knelt to begin reaching across the stars to find his lost servant.

Suddenly Ludmilla realized that these two were the Sith Lords – the man in the mask was seeking Visas.  He was the one who had tortured her, broken her to the Dark Side through fear and suffering.  Her anger, white-hot with righteousness, flared inside her.

"What?" said the scarred man, and drew back.

The man in the mask scrambled to his feet in shock.

How is this possible, thought the man in the mask.  You are in our minds, Jedi – how did you get here?  You do not know us.

But she did know them, somehow.  Darth Nihlus, the Lord of Hunger – he was the one who had devoured Katarr and all the life on it, leaving nothing but one wounded girl and a hole in the Force.  His hunger had twisted him so badly that his face was unbearable even to his own eyes, so he hid behind the mask.  He had lost everything in the wars – his wife, his children, his squadron.  All of them had died, leaving him alone.

The other was Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain.  He clung to life so desperately that he was willing to accept unending pain in exchange for immortality.  Drawing on the Dark Side constantly, he regenerated his shattered and corrupted flesh.  He was another hole in the Force, a gaping wound that could not heal so long as he existed.  He had fought by the side of Exar Kun, died without dying, and had somehow become a Sith Lord.  She wondered how, but then the connection was broken between them before she could find an answer.  Sion turned and fled.

She could almost hear Kreia laughing in her mind as she was left alone in the dream world with Darth Nihlus.  The mask turned to face her.  "You abandoned her," snarled Ludmilla.  "You will never harm Visas again."

Nihlus drew away from her in fear and rage.  The Light was literally streaming from Ludmilla, a fire that he knew would burn him.  She is mine, he insisted.  Return her to me!

"Do I look like a coward to you?"  Ludmilla took a step closer, and he backed away again.  "Do I look like someone who would abandon someone under my protection?"

There was a stillness for a moment while Nihlus considered her.  "You abandoned me."  His voice was hollow and cold.  "General.  You abandoned all of us."

Ludmilla flinched, but she didn't retreat.  "If you were at Malachor V, I failed you.  I didn't abandon you.  If you want to punish someone, I'm right here.  But leave Visas alone."  The fiery Light inside her dimmed slightly, allowing Nihlus to come closer if he wished.  He didn't.

"Keep her, then.  When you fail her," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "she will be mine again."  Nihlus turned and walked out of the dream.

Ludmilla sat up in bed, startled and shaken.  Atton made a questioning noise at her, and she leaned over and kissed him.  His lips soothed her, and she was tempted to give in to the urge to snuggle up to him and stay in bed.  Instead she smiled and went to go check on Visas.

Visas was still sleeping soundly.  They had never gotten past Ludmilla to disturb her dreams.  Ludmilla sighed in relief.  She turned back to find Atton watching her curiously.  She grinned at him, and led him down to the galley.

"I need a snack," she said suddenly.  "Are there any cookies left?"

"Should be, unless Mira ate them all."  Atton searched, and pulled out a container.  "Here they are.  Want some milk?"

"Sure, half a glass will do."  Ludmilla pulled out a bottle of spirits and the chocolate syrup.

"You drink a lot."

Ludmilla smiled back at him.  "I know."  She popped a cookie into her mouth and started mixing herself a drink.  "I also eat a lot.  I burn a lot of energy."

"So… what was that about?"

Ludmilla sighed.  "Kreia used me as a trap.  When the Sith Lord tried to get to Visas, he got me instead."

Atton laughed.  "Well, I bet he wasn't expecting that."  He watched her wash down the rest of the cookies with her drink.  "I should make some more cookies."

"You should," she agreed happily.  "These are delicious."  She smiled wickedly.  "Almost as delicious as you."

Atton blushed.  "I'll make some while you're running around on Onderon."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Do I have to?  You'll end up in the palace.  I hate palaces."

"You don't have to," she smiled gently.  "I don't like palaces very much either.  I'm always worried I'm going to break something."

Atton smiled at the thought of the Jedi Knight toppling over priceless statues by accident.  Suddenly he thought of something.  "Wait, you were raised with Mandalorians.  Does that mean you have cybernetic implants?  Is that why you're always hungry?"

"Finally figured that out, did you," she grinned.  "Yes, I have battle implants just like any Mandalorian warrior.  But since I'm also a Jedi, you can't see any scars.  Gets very confusing, doesn't it?"

Atton nodded.  "And do Jedi just decide when to stop aging?  What makes them start again?"

"No, the Force decides for you.  As you've no doubt noticed," she grinned.

"Great, so you're going to make fun of me for the rest of my life," he grumbled, thinking of how young he looked compared to her.

She kissed him before answering.  "I certainly plan to."

Atton blinked, as he realized what she had just said.  He smiled, and it was like watching the sun rise and fill the room with light.

"Will you two put some clothes on," snapped Kreia.  "We are approaching Onderon."

"Already?" Atton sighed.  "But she looks so good semi-naked."

Kreia glared at him, and Atton ran upstairs to get dressed, while Ludmilla laughed and finished her drink.

She gave Atton enough time to get dressed and reach the bridge before she went up to the room.

Kreia smiled at her.  "You're learning."

Ludmilla blushed.  "He's distracting."

"I can imagine," said Kreia dryly.  "I think you're safe now.  I can hear him fighting with Mira."

Ludmilla rolled her eyes, and went up to get dressed.

Mira stopped talking as soon as Ludmilla was in earshot.

Atton looked over his shoulder, and saw her walking up in her armor.  "Thank you.  Well, here we are at Onderon.  There seems to be a line."

"An understatement if I ever heard one," muttered Bao-Dur.  The space outside Onderon was packed with ships.

Kreia frowned.  "Something is wrong here," she said softly.  "There is a disturbance here, and on the planet below.  Keep your eyes open, boy.  There is danger here."

"Is this a blockade or what?" asked Mira.  "What's going on with their spaceport?  Is it just closed?"

Atton shrugged.  "No clue.  Oh hey, incoming message from a Colonel Tobin.  Maybe this will clear it up."

"The Ebon Hawk.  I was told to expect you," said the harsh voice.  Ludmilla frowned, and Atton looked at the others in confusion.  "Whatever you planned to do on Onderon, you will fail.  Your journey stops here."

"How did they know who we were?" Bao-Dur asked quietly.  "We changed the registry, and no one knew we were coming here."

"No," said Kreia.  "Someone knew."  She looked at Ludmilla, who was shaking her head.  "Someone knew," Kreia repeated.  "Whether they spoke deliberately or accidentally is not the point.  The point is that we are going to be attacked very shortly."

"I'll take the turret," Ludmilla said sharply.  "Bao-Dur, see to our defenses.  Atton, Onderon has a jungle moon on the far side.  Big, green ball, with no visible development."

"You want to land in an undeveloped jungle?"

"There are plenty of landing places," she assured him.  "It's been used as a hiding place for centuries."  She climbed up to the turret, and started picking off the fighters that had launched from the planet below.

Atton dodged and swung the Ebon Hawk, and the one of the fighters hit one of the other ships waiting to dock at Onderon.  In seconds, a firefight broke out among all the ships hovering in the space above Onderon.  Atton grinned and watched ships explode around them.

"What's so funny?" Mira demanded.

"If I have to explain, you wouldn't get the joke."  One of the fighters managed to hit the Ebon Hawk before Ludmilla blasted it into space debris.  "Uh oh.  That's not good.  I'm going to land now.  I hope that's the right moon."  Atton brought the ship down carefully.  "Why isn't anyone ever glad to see us?" he asked himself.  "Or at least, why can't they ever just say 'Hi,' or something, instead of always trying to kill us?"

Ludmilla jumped down from the turret.  "Nice landing."

"Who cleared out all this space?  There were a bunch of clearings big enough for a ship.  Where are we?"

Ludmilla didn't answer, and headed to the garage to check on Bao-Dur.

Atton rolled his eyes.  "I hate when she does that."

"Do you truly want an answer, boy?"

"Is it going to hurt me?"

"Most likely," smiled Kreia.

"Fine.  Where are we?"

"We are on Dxun, where the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders struck their first blow against the Republic.  There are many things buried here, or covered by the growth of the jungle."

"This is where the Mandalorian wars started?" asked Mira.

Kreia nodded.

"I need to check my weapons," said Mira.  "I can't wait to check this place out!"  Mira ran to her room to get her gear.

"She fought here once?"

"Fought.  Such a simple word.  She may wish to forget the battles she fought here, but there will be others who remember.  And until she faces that part of her past, she will not be able to move forward.  So we will not be leaving until she is ready, boy."  Atton turned to look at Kreia, unable to resist her silent command.  "The Force has led her here to find something.  Until she finds it, whatever is wrong with the ship will not be repaired.  Do I make myself clear?"

Atton nodded.


	22. Angel in the Marble

"The droids need to stay on the ship," said Ludmilla.  "Trust me, you don't want to go into this jungle."

"I have assessed the current atmospheric conditions and historical climate data of this moon.  I am in complete agreement with you," said Goto.

T3 beeped questioningly.

"We'll be fine," smiled Ludmilla.  "You watch the ship."

"I should probably stay too," said Atton reluctantly.  "I need to power down the systems so we can't be seen from above, and see what repairs need to be done."

"We won't be gone long," said Ludmilla gently.

"I will stay and keep you company," said Visas quietly.

"Oh, you don't have to," said Atton lamely, but he sounded pleased.

"I will stay," said Visas.  Then she smiled quickly.  "And I will drink more chocolate."

Mira frowned.  "Loot is more important than chocolate.  I think."

"There will be chocolate when we return," said Kreia.  "Come, the sooner we leave, the sooner this will all be over.

"Stop saying chocolate, and let's get going."  Ludmilla led them off the ship, and they explored the region where they had crashed.  There were skeletons and rusted droids, so overgrown by the jungle as to be barely recognizable.

Bao-Dur stared at the hulls of Republic ships that lay scattered on the surface.  "And this is just what we can see.  The jungle took the rest."

"Was it worth it, old man?" asked Ludmilla quietly.  "Did we do the right thing?"

"We had no other choice, General.  You know that."

She didn't answer, and kept walking through the jungle.

"Was there, General?  Was there another way?" asked Bao-Dur gently.

Ludmilla stopped, not to answer, but to listen.

Three Mandalorian warriors decloaked around the group.  "Greetings, strangers," said their leader, as the Mandalorians put up their weapons.  "I was going to be surprised that anyone made it this far through the jungle after crashing on the surface, but I think I see why."  The leader, a tall man in the dark grey armor of a Mandalorian Commander, covered in warrior's marks and blazoned with victory stripes, held out his hand to Ludmilla.  "What brings you to our moon, Jetii?"

Ludmilla clasped the armored hand in a warrior's greeting.  "Your moon, Mandokarla?  Doesn't this moon belong to Onderon?"

The Mandalorians laughed.  "As far as they know, sure.  Come, make yourself comfortable in our camp.  On behalf of the Mandalore, I welcome you."

Ludmilla looked at him curiously.  "There is no Mandalore."

The Mandalorian shook his head.  "Things change, Jetii.  Come and be safe, you are welcome.  Stay as you will, and leave when you wish."

Ludmilla considered.  "Well, if we're going to your camp, I need to get the rest of my crew."

"Shouldn't we leave someone to watch the ship, – " Bao-Dur stopped himself before he called her by her title again.

"I told them we would be back soon.  But there might be ale!"

The Mandalorians laughed, pleased at her reaction.  "There is ale," the leader assured her.  "Good ale, strong and dark.  I've never met a Jetii that drinks Mandalorian ale."

"Well, now you have," she grinned.

Bao-Dur shook his head.  "Maybe I should stay on the ship, then?"

Ludmilla shook her head.  "No, old man.  We're all friends for today, and if we start shooting each other tomorrow, I want you at my side.  Come on, let's go back."

"The ale better be good, Mandalorian," Bao-Dur grumbled, as they made their way back to the ship.

Mira waited a whole minute before she started talking.  "What are you Mandalorians doing here?  Why would you live in a jungle?  Why aren't you out being mercenaries?"

A younger warrior, his armor plain and simple, answered.  "The Mandalore has gathered us here, to rebuild the clans under his banner."

"Is he going to start a new war?" asked Bao-Dur quietly.

All the Mandalorians shook their heads.  "No," said the leader, "Mando'a – the way of life – is in danger of being lost forever.  We lost more than a war, we lost our way.  We must decide what it really means to be a Mandalorian, and then live it."

"So you're all just hiding out on this moon, trying to figure out how to be Mandalorians?" Bao-Dur asked, without the slightest trace of a sneer.

"Pretty much," laughed the leader.

"So who cleans your camp?" Ludmilla asked.  "The slave markets are pretty far from here."

"We do," the leader laughed.  "That was one of the first things we discarded."

"What?"

"We don't keep slaves anymore.  If you're strong enough to lift a weapon and kill someone, you're strong enough to lift a shovel and wash your own dishes."

Ludmilla stared at the Mandalorians in shock.  "You're very different from the Mandalorians I used to know."

"Not so different," the leader said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  "At least, not in the important things."

"My ship is just up here."

"Good landing," said one of the other Mandalorians admiringly.  "Is your pilot single?"

"No," said Ludmilla.  "Wait right here, let me bring them out."  She ran into the Ebon Hawk, and almost didn't notice that the leader of the group had almost dropped his weapon when they caught sight of the ship.

The leader walked up to the ramp, and waited politely while he casually looked over the ship.

Ludmilla, with Atton and Visas following, emerged from the ship again.  T3 beeped a question, then suddenly squeaked in surprise.

"What is it, T3?"  Ludmilla looked at the little droid.  "We'll be fine, I promise.  A little drunk, maybe.  Okay, very drunk.  Just watch the ship."

"What would life be like without orders?" laughed the Mandalorian.  "Droids, Organics, Sentients, everyone needs an order to follow."

Ludmilla looked at the Mandalorian in surprise.  "Do you always spout philosophy on the spur of the moment?"

"I also write songs."

"Really?" said Ludmilla, not sure whether to believe him or not.

He nodded, chuckling under his mask.  "I do, because songs make us remember who we are.  Also, it makes marching easier.  You asked us about slaves?"  He began to sing, an easy working tune that served for a marching song under the circumstances.  "Some must watch, and some must ward.  Some shall sleep while others guard.  Some bear children, some bear arms, some tend beasts, and some till farms.  Some patch wounds and some patch tents; some fix meals and others dents.  To each a place, to each a task – honor to the camp, and honor to the mask!"

The other Mandalorians had joined in almost immediately, singing as they walked through the jungle, and the song was picked up by more voices as they approached the main camp, swelling by dozens of voices – male and female, mostly Human, and mostly of fighting age.  They sang it well, and with pride – the words were familiar to them, and they believed what they were singing.

The sentries at the camp were watchful, and greeted them quickly, passing them through a kinetic barrier that kept out the animal predators of Dxun.  Men and women, their armor piled neatly nearby, worked at repairing, cleaning, carrying – the work of the camp that in the past had driven the need for slaves.

Ludmilla looked around.  "What made you build your camp here?"

"The graves," answered the leader, pointing to a small enclosure just north of where they were standing.  "You could say they were the first victims of the Mandalorian wars."

Bao-Dur frowned.  "Wouldn't that be Onderon?"  He walked over to the small group of graves, each bearing a warrior's helmet.  "These are all Mandalorians," he said in surprise.

The Mandalorian nodded.  "They challenged a young Taung warrior and his men, and they lost.  He went on to become Te Ani'la Mand'alor – Mandalore the Ultimate.  But he lost more than he won, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" asked Bao-Dur, confused.  Every Mandalorian felt that becoming Mandalore – the living embodiment of Mando'ade – was the greatest honor that a Mandalorian could attain.

"He lost the woman he loved, too," said the Mandalorian, pointing to a red helmet decorated with black victory stripes.

Ludmilla turned away from the graves, and realized that she had somehow found Atton's hand, was holding it tightly.  She forced herself to relax, and stroked his hand gently in apology.  "Now that we're in your camp, shouldn't we introduce ourselves properly?" she said quietly.

"If you like," the leader pulled off his helmet.  "Te Taylir Mand'alor.  Mandalore the Preserver.  But you can just call me Canderous.  I haven't decided what to do with clan names and origin names yet."

There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone except Ludmilla, who had already recognized the faceplate of his mask.  "Thank you for welcoming me to your camp, Mandalore.  Before I eat your rations and drink your water, I should tell you that I'm not a Jetii – well, not as you know it.  I am General Ludmilla Sîvoš, the Jedi Exile."  She noted his surprise at her knowledge of Mandalorian culture.

There was a soft murmur among the Mandalorians who had heard her, and the Mandalore grinned in delight.  He was a big Human with some evidence of Taung ancestry, broad shouldered and handsome, starting to end the prime of his fighting years.  His friendly face smiled easily, and was covered in scars, large and small, that did nothing to detract from his handsomeness.  "Your stories will liven up our fires, Jetii.  Come, you must be hungry after all that walking, and I believe I promised you some ale."

Ludmilla smiled slowly.  "Ale would be very welcome right about now."

Everyone else introduced themselves, and the Mandalorians pulled off their armor to relax in the camp or attend to some other duties while they greeted their guests.  The group gathered around the entrance of the guest bunker – a solid ferroconcrete building, completely unworthy of the word 'tent,' but that's what the Mandalorians called their sleeping places regardless of whether it was made of cloth or steel.  Some warriors carried over a keg of the strong ale, which was, as the Mandalore had promised, dark and strong, and Ludmilla politely invited them to join them in a few drinks.  The Mandalorians eagerly accepted, excited to meet one of the heroes of the Mandalorian wars – even if she had fought on the other side.

"This brings back memories," said Bao-Dur with a soft smile.  "We always made off with a keg or two after a raid.  The first time she did it, I thought she was nuts."  He finished his drink.  "But Mandalorians make some damn good ale."

Ludmilla laughed, and realized that she was holding Atton's hand again.  He was pretending not to watch her, and sipping cautiously at the thick black Mandalorian ale.

"What happened to your hand there?" asked Mira, pointing at a scar on the back of a Mandalorian's hand.

"Oh, I got that from a Basilisk drop on Vanquo, years ago," and the Mandalorian warrior began telling a story about one of the earliest attacks in the Mandalorian wars.  Ludmilla grinned as she listened to the tale, and filled another mug for herself.  The neat, orderly camp bustled with life, but unlike the camps of her youth, all of these people were Mandalorians – no one was an outsider here.

"Ludmilla?" Atton looked at her, questioning.

"Hmm?  Did you ask me something?"

Atton shook his head.  "I just want to know if you're okay."

She smiled gently.  "I'm fine, I'm just…."  She sighed sadly, and put down her ale.  "Bao-Dur."

The Iridonian looked at her from over his mug.  "Something wrong, General?"

She nodded.  "Come walk with me for a second, I need to ask you something."  She stood, and tried to let go of Atton's hand but he pretended that he was stuck to her.  Ludmilla shook her head with a smile, and let him follow her.  She walked back towards the graves near the entrance of the Mandalorian camp.

The Mandalore was there, with Visas, describing the flowers growing on the graves.  Visas turned as they approached, a slight blush on her pale face.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Ludmilla.  "This won't take long."  She lifted the red helmet and tossed it to Bao-Dur, over the Mandalore's shocked noise of protest.  "I'm not desecrating anything."

Bao-Dur looked at the helmet in confusion, and Atton peered inside the helmet.

"Hey, there's some writing," Atton exclaimed.  "It's in Mandalorian, though."

"It says, 'Silver Heart,' it was her battle name.  His was 'Golden Soul.'  They were together for less than a year, but it was the kind of love they sing about," the Mandalore explained.  He tilted his head, looking quizzically at Ludmilla.

Bao-Dur turned the helmet in his hands over again, looking not at the faceplate, but on the inside and the wiring, where the helmet would have connected to the full Mandalorian combat armor.  "I don't understand," he said finally.

"She thought she could change his mind, she thought if she gave him what he asked for, he would stop.  Listen to reason.  But he wanted the one thing she couldn't give up."  Ludmilla laid her lightsaber on the gravestone, where the helmet had rested.  "So he struck her down, left her for dead, and swore revenge on all Jedi for turning her against him."

"Wait, you – you're Ka'rta?" said the Mandalore, as if he didn't dare to believe.

Ludmilla nodded, still waiting for Bao-Dur to say something.  She realized that Atton's hand was in hers again, and she wasn't really sure how it had gotten there.

Bao-Dur silently replaced the red helmet, and handed her back her lightsaber.

"You're a Mandalorian?" asked the Mandalore, still trying to understand.

"No, I am the daughter of a slave, an aruetii slave.  An outsider raised in the camp, trained in Mando'ade, but not worthy of a name."

The Mandalore shook his head.  "See, that's just so stupid.  The whole concept of slaves is ridiculous, and has no place in Mando'ade."

Bao-Dur looked at him.  "And yet, your people lived that way for centuries."

"Doesn't make it any less stupid."

Ludmilla laughed, unable to stop herself.

"But you were taken away to be a Jedi," Bao-Dur said slowly, "how did you fall in love with Mandalore the Ultimate?  And where did you get the armor?"

"He gave it to me," said Ludmilla calmly.  "I ran away from the Enclave to go find my mother, and found Runi instead.  It was one of those things.  I thought he was the one.  I was wrong."  Simple words that explained much but left more unspoken.

Atton, still holding her hand, remembered her soft voice explaining that she was terrible at following and wanted someone to lean on her, and tried to imagine her at the side of a Mandalore.  "He gave you the armor, even though you never took the oath?" asked Atton.  "Isn't that against the rules?"

Bao-Dur laughed as Ludmilla shrugged.  "You never were one for following the rules, were you, General?"  He looked at the red helmet again, dented and rusted and stained.

"I guess it's true, everyone does fall in love with you," Atton grinned.

"Atton," Bao-Dur groaned.

"What?" said Ludmilla.  "Why would you – "

"I'm going back to the ale, General."  Bao-Dur smiled at her, and walked away.

She looked at Atton.  "Did he really say that?"  Her heart was singing, knowing that her old friend still trusted her, still believed in her, agreed that she had made the right choice so many years ago.

Atton blinked in surprise.  "What is that?" he pointed at a tree behind Ludmilla, and she turned to look.  Atton pounced on her for a kiss, distracting her from all her thoughts of the past and any inconvenient statements in the present.

Ludmilla make a squeak of surprise, and they fell over into the soft grass just beyond the graves.

"Maybe we should leave," said Visas gently.

"If you like," grinned the Mandalore.  "There's an herb garden in the back, if you want to visit more flowers."

"Oh, I would like that," said Visas eagerly.  She laid her hand on the Mandalore's arm, and he led her away to continue looking at flowers.

 

"I'm a Mandalorian.  Scars aren't disfiguring in our eyes.  We don't pity wounds, we praise them."

"Even on women?"

"Is a woman less deserving of honor than a man?  Is she less brave?  Does she suffer less?"  He kissed her between each question, gently stroking her face.  "Beauty isn't just on the outside.  Love doesn't stop at the eyes or the fingertips."  He smiled against her lips, and chuckled quietly.  "Of course, it doesn't hurt that your lips are beautiful and that you kiss like a dream."

There was a laugh, soft and sweet, then the sound of a gentle kiss.

"And you know, that dress doesn't hide anything."

"What do you mean?  My robes cover me completely."

"Cover, yes.  Hide, no."

"I...  I beg your pardon?  Oh," she said in understanding.  "Oh."

Atton peeked into the small arbor, entirely distracted from his search for fresh mint.  "Mandalore?"

He pulled away from Visas and looked irritably at Atton.  "What?"

"Nothing.  I just didn't recognize you without the mask on, and with Visas stuck to your face."

Visas blushed and made a little face at Atton.  "Stop trying to embarrass me!"

"No."

"Why are you even here?" demanded Visas, and hid her face in Canderous' shoulder, as she suddenly realized that her veil had completely fallen off.

"Oh, I heard rumors of an herb garden and I was looking for mint.  Oh!  There it is!"  Atton reached down, and casually handed back the veil.  He plucked a few leaves of mint, and then quickly grabbed some other herbs that he had just found.  "She likes chocolate, you know."

"Of course she does, all women do.  Jedi women especially."  Canderous ignored Visas as she replaced her veil, and grinned to himself at the thought of pulling it off again.

Atton raised an eyebrow.  "How many Jedi women do you know?"

Canderous looked down and the slender woman in his arms.  "Just enough."

"I'll be going now.  You aren't even paying attention to me anymore, are you?"  Atton grinned, and left Visas and Mandalore alone in the garden.

 

Kreia walked past the dining hall and found Atton instructing the Mandalorians who were working in the kitchen.  "Ah, I didn't think you would suffer yourself to eat another such meal as we had last night."

"I was polite!  It was camp food, I didn't expect anything better."

Kreia sniffed.  "What are you doing with the ale?  I thought you didn't like it."

"I don't, but it makes an excellent marinade.  We killed three grazers from the herd, and I'm going to make some stew for those people who can't come to regular mealtimes."  One of the Mandalorians brought over a large bowl, and Atton helped her set it up over the fire.  "And the rest is destined to become steaks."

"Have you seen Visas, boy?"

"Look for the Mandalore's tongue, she'll be on the other end."

Kreia laughed.  "And Mira?"

"Holding court with all the unattached Mandalorians."

"And where is the girl?  Is she still drinking with the alien?"

"Nah, they found some broken things and are fixing them.  Lifting heavy things.  It makes me tired just watching them."

"And is she still planning to get to Onderon at some point?  Or has she decided to join these new Mandalorians?"

Atton looked up.  "Both, I think."  He looked down at all the food laid out on the counter.  "It's too bad there are no more slaves though, I kind of wanted a collar and stuff."

"I'm sure she'll give you one if you ask," said Kreia dryly.

"You think so?" said Atton cheerily.  "Anyway, the Mandalore offered her the stealth shuttle that they use to sneak between Dxun and Onderon when the Mandalorians go to get information and supplies.  I think he just wants her to stop beating up the warriors in his battle circle."

"She hits like a Krayt dragon," grinned one of the Mandalorians.  "My bruises have bruises from fighting her."

"The way she fights, it's no wonder she beat us in the wars."  The Mandalorian sounded proud, rather than defeated.

"And she does it all without the Force," said another admiringly.  "I always thought Jetii were helpless without the Force."

Kreia smiled.  "Some Jedi are different."

Atton pointed to the pot that had just finished heating to the perfect temperature, and a Mandalorian carefully carried it over to the serving table.  Atton pulled out a container of whipped cream and a box of freshly cut and sugared marsh mallows to serve along with the chocolate.

"You know, if my head wasn't still ringing from the last time I tried to hit on you, I'd hit on you again," one of the Mandalorians grinned at Atton.

Atton frowned a little and ignored her so that he could finish setting up the snack table.  Kreia smiled at his discomfort and watched him retreat past the table while the women attacked the chocolate.  Atton handed Kreia a mug of hot chocolate.  "I poisoned this one especially for you," he said calmly.

"I'll try to earn it," Kreia smiled.  "Perhaps you should go amuse the girl, and convince her to leave for Onderon and get it over with sooner, rather than later?" suggested Kreia softly.  "Before I get bored with sightseeing on this planet."

Atton looked at her curiously.  "There's nothing to see on this planet to see except vines and ruins."

"Go and find the girl, fool.  Stop irritating me."

Atton waited for Kreia to take a sip of her hot chocolate, and smiled at the surprise on her face.

Kreia pretended not to be impressed and sat down on a bench to enjoy her intensely chocolate drink, with the sweet cube of marsh mallow bouncing in the center, while Atton slipped away.  As soon as he was gone and the Mandalorians in the kitchen all distracted by the snacks that Atton had set out, she rose gracefully and walked to the central bunker, and sat down on a bench to wait.

"I'll be right back," someone laughed, and the Mandalore ran into the room.

"Canderous Ordo."

The Mandalore stopped.  "Who – what are you?"

"I am just a very old woman, Canderous.  One who worries much because she has seen much.  Your shuttle – it is in readiness to travel to Onderon?"

"Of course, we checked the systems earlier.  But she wants to explore the jungle first, and kill another zakkeg."

Kreia sighed in irritation.  "She delays."

"She's happy here," said the Mandalore defensively.  "And why shouldn't she be?  We are her people.  Not that someone like you would understand us," he sneered.  "We're a breed apart."

"If by 'apart,' you mean, scattered, broken, and lost, then yes, you are correct, Mandalore."

"Not for long," said Canderous fiercely.  "Soon the Mandalorians will be strong again, united and proud, under one banner – mine."

"Indeed," said Kreia dryly.  "Ready again to march to war at the command of your leader.  Tell me, Mandalorian, where is your pride?  Where are the children?  Why are there no little voices singing your marching songs alongside their mothers and fathers?"

Canderous was silent.

"It is not yet time, is it?  You must wait for your orders, just like everyone else.  In the meantime, you have gone mad for a soft little Jedi woman who dreams of flowers and life, and has nightmares of monsters in the shape of a man."

"He still lives, right?  The one who hurt her?"

Kreia shrugged.  "If such a one can be considered alive, then yes, he lives.  His ship wanders the edges of known space."

"Good," said Canderous with satisfaction.  "I'm going to kill him."  He looked at Kreia curiously.  "What is he doing on the edge of space?"

"He is seeking a path."

"What?"

"A path, that others have taken, that leads to a different region of space – where different things are known."

"Who are you?" Canderous demanded again.

Kreia smiled gently.  "You are a loyal beast, Canderous.  Yes, he seeks to follow in the footsteps of another that we both hold dear.  So you will help me, Canderous, and you will help yourself.  And you will keep the one I follow safe, because she is more important to me than anything else in the galaxy, and only I can help you find what you desire."  Kreia laughed at the look on the Mandalore's face.  "Have no fear, Mandalorian.  All you need do is show the victorious General the same loyalty that you have shown in the past.  And when the time comes for a Mandalorian crusade, it will be for something that will carry your songs into the future, etching the memory of Mandalorian honor among the stars.  Even when the last Mandalorian has fallen, the shadow of Mando'ade will echo from one end of the galaxy to the other."

"You promise?" said Canderous eagerly, his Mandalorian soul aflame with the hunger for a glorious battle.

Kreia laughed.  "I can promise you that wherever the Jedi General goes, war will follow.  How that battle turns out, depends of course, on those who follow her.  I am old and wise, but wisdom alone does not win battles."  Kreia rose, slow and graceful in her movements, mindful of her advanced age.  "You shall leave for Onderon shortly?"

Canderous nodded.

"Then I shall leave you to your preparations."  Kreia left the room in a swirl of brown robes.

"Forget the Jetii," Canderous muttered to himself, "I have to keep an eye on her."


	23. Charms and Tokens, pt.5

Atton walked over to the far west side of the camp, where Ludmilla and Bao-Dur were helping to repair the ravages of the Dxun jungle on the perimeter walls.  He sat down on a pile of plassteel blocks nearby and watched them working.

Ludmilla was wearing just a tank top, and there was a colorful butterfly on her head.  Another one of the little jewel-like insects settled on Atton as well, and he laughed quietly.  She turned at the sound, and smiled at him, her happiness lighting up her face.  She shifted the block she was putting into place so that she could wave to him.

Atton smiled back.  A movement at the end of the line of workers caught his eye, and he saw part of the wall move.  Purely with instinct, he stood, and used the Force to hold the wall in place before it collapsed.

There was a horrible roar just outside the wall.  "A zakkeg!" someone shouted.

Ludmilla looked around, and her eyes instantly took in the situation.  "Get my lightsaber," she commanded Bao-Dur, and without waiting, jumped up and over the wall.

Atton cried out before he could stop himself.  He closed his eyes and tried to figure out how to make the wall stay in place now that the zakkeg wasn't pushing against it.  He heard Bao-Dur shouting, commanding, felt the strain on the wall lessen.  Bao-Dur ran up to him, and shoved a bundle into his hands.

"Go help her!"

Part of Atton wanted to keep hiding, to let the Mandalorians keep thinking he was weak and harmless.  But she was out there alone, fighting one of the apex predators of Dxun with nothing but her bare hands and the Force because she was waiting for him to come help her.  Atton took the lightsabers and her armor, and ran, jumping on the blocks to get over the wall, flitting like a butterfly, jumped down into the jungle beyond.

Atton ignored the noises from the shocked Mandalorians, and ran up to where Ludmilla was holding off the zakkeg.  He tossed her lightsaber to her and activated his own.  He focused, trying to remember Kreia's instructions, and threw a blast that stunned the beast long enough for her to reach his side.

Ludmilla smiled with joy, the thrill of battle dancing with her pleasure in having Atton at her side, watching him overcome his fears and self-doubt.  She shrugged on her armor as quickly as she could, and then charged the zakkeg again, her lightsaber flashing.  Atton followed, moving swiftly and following her blows with his own, and together they ripped through the giant lizard's tank-like armor plating.  It swiped uselessly at them with teeth and claws, never landing a blow on the two Jedi.  Weakened, it drew back for a charge, and Atton held it in place while Ludmilla leapt into the air and brought her lightsaber down on its head.  The zakkeg shuddered once and fell over.

There was cheering, from the Mandalorians who had gathered on the wall to watch the fight.  But he couldn't hear anything but her breathing, softly whispering his name.  He was in her arms, or perhaps she was in his, and there were more of the brightly colored butterflies surrounding them as their lips met.  He flinched suddenly, at the feel of warmth on his hands, and pulled away.

"You're hurt!"

Ludmilla grinned in surprise.  "Am I?"  She looked down at herself, turned slightly.  "Oh, I guess I am."  She pulled off her armor again, and looked ruefully at the gash in her shoulder, the red stain trickling down her arm and her back.  "It got me while I was dodging."

Atton turned white and swayed slightly.

"Hey!"  Ludmilla moved, but he fainted before she could say anything more.

Atton woke up later, in a quiet, dark room.  He sensed, rather that saw, Kreia sitting at his bedside.

She laughed softly as she heard him stir.  "What a curious little boy you are."

Atton flushed.  "What happened?"

"You fainted at the sight of her blood."  Kreia laughed again.  "I wonder what your past victims would think, to see you exhibit such a weakness."

"Shut up."

Kreia couldn't stop herself from laughing again, not that she tried very hard.  "If it helps, the Mandalorians all thought it was terribly romantic."

Atton turned to face the wall, and wished that Kreia would just go away.

"At any rate, you have served your purpose.  The damage to the wall necessitated a trip to Onderon for new materials, and I persuaded her to let you rest while she took the next steps on her path."

"Is she all right?" asked Atton nervously.

"Of course she is, little fool.  Using the Force to heal is second nature to most people."  Kreia laughed again.  "There, there, boy.  Rest.  She will come back soon."  She waved her hand, and Atton fell into a dreamless sleep.

Kreia waited patiently, and the door opened.

Ludmilla peeked into the darkened chamber.  "Is he still sleeping?"

Kreia nodded, and moved away from the chair so that Ludmilla could check on him for herself.  "I have put him to sleep again," she explained.  "He worries about you very much, beneath his façade of carelessness.  I wonder what damage he suffered in his past to leave such a wound.  It must have been very severe."

Ludmilla frowned without answering.  She bent over Atton's sleeping form, and kissed him.  Even in his sleep, he drowsily put his arms around her and returned the embrace, before settling back among the pillows with a soft smile on his face.  Ludmilla rearranged the pillows slightly, so that he would be more comfortable.

Kreia laughed slightly.  "Go, the boy will still be here when you return.  Let him rest.  You can finish kissing him in his sleep later."

Ludmilla blushed, then laughed before leaving the room, pausing to take one final look at Atton before she left.


	24. Angel in the Night

"I don't even know where to start," muttered Canderous as the shuttle headed towards Dxun.

"About what?" asked Ludmilla innocently.

"Your boytoy's age, or the fact that he's a Jetii."

"My boytoy is older than your little face decoration, and she was a Sith!"

Canderous chuckled.  "She got better, thank you for that.  And your boytoy looks younger.  Is that on purpose?"

"He's spent a lot of time in space.  Ran away from home, mixed with bad kids, you know."

"And the Jetii part?"

"Oh, I taught him that."

Canderous was silent.

"What?"

"No, seriously, I don't even know where to start.  You can't just go around teaching kids to be Jetii."

"Yes, I can."  She looked at the Mandalore calmly.  "I'm a Knight, and even though I was exiled and cut off from the Force, my status was never revoked.  There's nothing in the Code or the laws of the Republic to stop me from teaching."

"Yeah, but… wait, you were cut off from the Force?  It didn't stick."

Ludmilla shrugged.  "What can I say?  Every time I think the Jedi Council has hit bottom for incompetence and stupid decisions, they keep digging."

"So, let me get this straight.  Some old woman, who walked away from the Jedi Order during the wars, finds you and rescues you.  Then you find and rescue some kid who turns out to be an untrained Jetii, and train him.  Then some Siit Lord sends his Shadow Hand to kill you, and you save her, turn her away from the Dark Side, and train her."

Ludmilla nodded.  "Sounds about right.  What about it?"

"Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?"

"You make it sound so unusual, but really, what was I supposed to do?  Send her back to be killed for failing?  Leave Atton to die, or worse, fall to the Dark Side?"

"It's just that last week, there were no Jetii in this sector.  Now there are four.  Possibly five, if you count that di'kutla councilor that you say is supposed to be hiding on Onderon."

Ludmilla snickered.  "Kavar."  She couldn't keep the scorn from her voice as she said his name.

"I'm a Jedi Knight, but I'm going to let my student run a war for me," said Canderous mockingly in a fake voice, clearly meant to be imitating Kavar.  "I sure hope someone will win, so I can take all the glory!"

Ludmilla burst out laughing, and couldn't answer.  "He wasn't that bad."

"He wasn't that good, either."  Canderous landed the shuttle at the far end of the spaceport.  "You know, we all expected that Kavar would be the one leading the Republic forces against us.  Someone famous, respected, traditional.  No one expected some nobody from nowhere to appear at the head of an army, and kick our asses back to the Far Rim."

She smiled at the memory.  "Revan only seemed to come from nowhere.  She would sit quietly on the sidelines, and watch and study and learn.  And when you least expected it, she had solved the problem, and all the problems her solution had caused.  Her only problem was getting people to listen to her."

"Is that why she adopted the mask and let everyone think she was a man?"

Ludmilla nodded.  "She was tiny," she held out her hand to show how Revan's height.  "Have you ever seen those expensive little ceramic dolls they sell on Coruscant for the little Senatorial daughters to play with?"

Canderous chuckled.  "Yeah, that wouldn't have made a very inspiring leader for the Republic troops."  Canderous held out his hand as if he were holding an imaginary doll.  "Come, my troops, follow me to Candyplanet!" he said in a mocking falsetto.  Then, he made cheering gestures with his other hand, "Yes, Fairy Princess General Revan!  We will follow you anywhere!"

Ludmilla burst out laughing.  "You're a strange man, Mandalore."

"What, just because I have a sense of humor and a vivid imagination?" he grinned.  "Come on, let's explore Onderon."  He looked critically at her.  "Usually, I try to bring someone who isn't so Mand'ori to do all the talking.  For some reason, the people of Onderon hold a grudge."

"Probably because you beat them into the ground."

Canderous grinned.  "We respect our victorious enemies.  Why can't everyone take a lesson from us?"

"Probably because you beat them into the ground," she repeated, and Canderous laughed.

"Oh, the little whiners deserved it.  Anyway, they're going to assume we're both Mandalorians and give us a hard time.  Just so you know."

"Halt, off-worlder," demanded one of the guards of the Onderon spaceport.  "You'll need to answer a few questions before we permit you to enter the city."  The guard looked at the very tall, muscular woman, and the equally tall, muscular man behind her.  "You'll also need to provide some identification," he said suspiciously.

Ludmilla sighed.  "No, I don't think we will need to provide any identification."

The guard stared blankly at her.  "Actually, you're right.  You don't need to provide any identification."

"And we don't have to answer any questions," she said calmly.

"No," said the guard, slightly befuddled by her use of the Force, "you don't need to answer any questions."

The Mandalore chuckled.  "While you're at it, why don't you convince him he never saw us?  It will save us some trouble later."

Ludmilla shook her head in mock despair.

"In fact," said the guard in confusion, "I have no idea why I'm bothering you instead of going to the local bakery to get myself some cintapaste buns."

Canderous looked at her as the guard recited the address and menu of the local bakery.  "Wait," he said suddenly, "go over that part with the curry buns again."

The guard, still under the influence of Ludmilla's Force persuasion, recited the savory section of the menu once more.

"Okay," commanded Canderous, "give us our visas so we can hit that bakery.  Now I'm hungry."

 

Atton sat up, not sure why he was awake.

"Is everything all right?" Visas asked softly.

"Yeah, it's just…" Atton touched his lips, and could smell her perfume on his clothes.  "Was Ludmilla here?"

"She has not been here for a few hours.  She kissed you and then left for Onderon."

"How did I sleep through that?" Atton asked himself, then looked around the room again.  "So, is she back yet?"

"That, I do not know," said Visas gently.  "I don't think so, I'm sure she would come here first if – "

The door opened and Ludmilla bounced in, happily.  "You're awake!" she pounced on Atton, and they fell back to the bed, locked in a kiss.

"Oh, she is back," Visas stood, and turned to leave the room, but ran into Canderous, who was pulling off his armor.

"Well, hello there," grinned Canderous.  "Would you like some chocolate?" he asked as he drew Visas away.

"I have a terribly important question," said Ludmilla as she pulled away and let Atton breathe.  "Can you make these?"  She handed him a bag, and he pulled out a sweet, sticky pastry and ate it experimentally.

"Sure," he smiled as he ate the cintapaste bun.  "And the honey version, too.  Ack," he stared at his hand, now covered in sugary syrup.

"Oh," said Ludmilla innocently, "let me get that for you."

Atton made a surprised little noise as Ludmilla licked all the syrup from his fingers.  He whimpered softly as her tongue explored his hand, ran over his fingers, and she carefully kissed his wrists before letting his hands go, then proceeded to kiss his face, licking away all the traces of pastry and its fillings.

"What are you doing?" Kreia demanded.  "Can you keep your hands from the boy long enough to tell us what happened on Onderon?"

"It's not her hands that you should be worrying about," grinned Atton, and kissed Ludmilla again.

"Stop that!" snapped Kreia.

"We got thrown off the planet!" said Ludmilla.  "I got to talk to Kavar for about five minutes before General Vaklu's men attacked.  He's the local Sith lackey, wants to take over the planet and oust the Queen.  Colonel Tobin, the guy who shot at us when we approached the spaceport, is his personal kath hound.  They're blaming the Republic for that fight, and pretty much anything else bad that happens on Onderon.  Vaklu wants to secede completely from the Republic."

"How did you get thrown off the planet?"

"Well," said Ludmilla, carefully choosing her words, "we were trying to keep a low profile."

"You and the Mandalorian.  Really."  Kreia's disbelief was almost palpable, and Atton snickered a little.

"Oh, you be quiet.  We were doing a pretty good job."

"Until?" Kreia snapped.  "Out with it, girl."

"You know, if you were so interested in talking to Kavar, why didn't you come to Onderon?"

"I hate palaces," Kreia sniffed.  "They're always so cold."

"We never even got to the palace," Ludmilla snapped in frustration.  "That's it, when we go back to Onderon, you're all coming with me.  And if there's a dance in the ballroom, you're all going."

"I don't think so," said Kreia sharply.

"In heels!"

"I don't have anything to wear," said Atton innocently.  "My shoes sank."

"Quiet, fool," said Kreia.  "And when will you be going back to Onderon?"

"I don't know," Ludmilla sighed, "Kavar said he would contact me.  I'm pretty sure he made it out of the cantina alive."

"Why is this even a question?" asked Kreia sternly.  "What were you doing in a cantina that would put a Jedi Master's life at risk?"

"Okay, that's it.  We're leaving Onderon, Dxun, whatever, we're going somewhere else.  Kavar knows where to reach me, not that it matters, since everyone in the galaxy knows where to find me at all times."

Kreia sighed impatiently.  "Very well, if you are going to abandon Onderon – "

"Kavar doesn't want to start a civil war on Onderon, he's working with the Queen, and Vaklu is working with a Sith Lord.  An incredibly incompetent Sith Lord, I might add."

"Agreed," said Kreia.  "Where shall we go then, while we are waiting for Kavar to figure out how to put his pants on?"

Atton snickered quietly before he could stop himself, and hid behind Ludmilla when Kreia glared at him.

"What's left on the list?  Dantooine?  Let's go to Dantooine so Master Vrook can yell and get it all out of his system.  And then we can go to Korriban.  Maybe Kavar will have made a plan by then."

"Doubt it," grinned Atton, "unless waiting for you to save him counts as a plan."

Kreia smiled.  "Come, if we are leaving, we should be on our way.  We have dallied here far too long."

"Fine, fine," grumbled Ludmilla.  "I'm taking a keg or two, though.  I don't care what anybody says."  She pulled Atton to his feet.  "Come on, let's get ready to leave so everyone," she glared at Kreia, "can stop yelling at me for stuff that isn't my fault."

Kreia shook her head and left the room.  Canderous and Visas were kissing in the hallway.  "Enough, seer.  We must return to the ship and be on our way as soon as possible."  Knowing that Visas couldn't see her, she glared significantly at the Mandalore.  "So the crew should get ready to leave this miserable vine-infested moon."

Canderous looked at Visas, then at Kreia questioningly.  Visas pulled away with a sad sigh, and walked away.  Kreia gently motioned to him to follow.  Canderous pointed at himself in confusion, and shrugged.  Kreia pointed again, more forcefully this time.

Ludmilla walked out of the room, with Atton's hand in hers and glowing with happiness.  "Hello, Mandalore.  I guess we'll be leaving now."

"Er… about that…" said Canderous slowly.  "You run into trouble a lot.  I'm sure you could use an extra blaster, and I wouldn't mind collecting some of those clanless Mandalorians you've run into on your travels."

"Or, possibly, the idea of going an entire Standard hour without locking lips with Visas is just intolerable to you," said Atton.

"Oh, you should talk," growled Canderous.  "I was thinking of making you a stuffed Jedi Exile doll for those ten minutes a day when she's not touching you."

"Could you?" asked Atton brightly.  "I'd love one!"

Canderous turned to Kreia.  "Is he always like this?"

"Only when he's conscious," answered Kreia sharply.

"Good point," grinned Canderous.

Atton hid behind Ludmilla, and put his arms around her waist.

"You're welcome to come with us, Mandalore, and I appreciate the offer."

Kreia made a small noise of irritation, but no other protest, and Ludmilla rolled her eyes.

"Well, let me go make sure the camp will survive without Atton's cooking," Canderous grinned.  "And I'll get my weapons."

"Tell them we'll be back," Ludmilla smiled.  "Oh, and be sure to get a few kegs for the ship."

"Wouldn't travel without them."  Canderous ran off.

"Who wants to bet he'll run into his weapons before Visas?  No one?  Didn't think so," Atton sighed, and rested his head against Ludmilla's shoulders.

The Mandalorians helped them carry their gear and some supplies back to the Ebon Hawk.  Visas tried her best not to look overjoyed that Canderous was coming with them, and Ludmilla tried not to be overjoyed at the three kegs of thick, black Mandalorian ale.

"Don't worry," Ludmilla said as they finished loading.  "We'll be back."

"Well, it's not like you can return to Onderon anytime soon," said one of the Mandalorians seriously.  "Vaklu's got a lot of power."

"And even you can't defeat his entire army by yourself," said another.

Ludmilla grinned.  "I'm not planning to," she tossed down the last load.  "What do you think I recruited all these people for?"


	25. Food of the Angels

Canderous was sitting at the table, checking over his weapons and seemingly oblivious to Visas in his lap.  She was periodically giving him some of the food on the table in front of him, or holding his mug for him so that he could continue working.  Atton grinned at the sight as he jumped down the stairs into the galley.  Canderous looked at him, then down at Visas.  "Why don't you run around half-naked like that?"

Visas flushed bright red, and snuggled closer to him without speaking.

"Good answer," grinned Atton, and pulled out a can of fruit juice and a plate of pastries for Ludmilla.  "What do Mandalorians do when they don't have enough food?"

"We kill people until we can get some food."  Canderous took another sip of ale.  "So you better hurry up with that food, boy."

"Oh, don't you start, too."  Atton shook his head in disgust and carried the tray back upstairs, humming to himself.  Mira was sitting with Goto, using his communication network to send flirtatious messages to the seven or so Mandalorians that she was stringing along.  Bao-Dur was fixing something, as usual, and Kreia was talking to T3 in a language that nobody else understood.  Atton entered the cargo hold with a small smile, where Ludmilla was lying in bed, half covered with one of the blankets.  "Hello, beautiful."

"Ooh, you brought me food," she said happily, and sat up, letting the blanket slip away.  "You are good to me," she said sweetly, not bothering to conceal her accent.

"Wow."  Atton stared at her.  "You sound really different when you do that."

She laughed, a ripple of silver bells.  "Of course it is different.  Core Worlds have no accent, is all Standard there.  But I am not from Core World, am I?  Come," she beckoned to him.  "Sit with me, I will tell you a story."

Atton walked up to her, slightly nervous, and she laughed again, taking the tray from him.  She helped herself to a pastry, making a soft noise of approval, and drew him down to her, laid him down with his head in her lap so that she could play with his lovely dark hair and touch his skin while she spoke.  He lay still, entranced, listening to her lovely voice recite a child's adventure story with dragons, peris, princes in distress, daring rescues by dashing heroines with flashing blades.

Ludmilla finished her story, even though Atton had drifted off into a peaceful sleep some time ago.  She knew that part of him was still listening for the sound of her voice, and she talked until she had nothing more to say, then leaned over him and kissed him on the lips.  He stirred, reaching for her, and she held him in her arms, listening to his heartbeat.  Even in his sleep, Atton's mind kept up his walls.  She couldn't sense his emotions properly, only slight flashes here and there, and she shied away from trying too hard.  She leaned back against the wall, and watched him sleep, kissing him softly now and then.

Atton woke up to the touch of her lips on his, and held her close when she would have pulled away.  "I fell asleep," he said disbelievingly.  "What happened to the prince?"

"He was rescued and they all lived happily ever after," Ludmilla smiled, and kissed him again.  "Of course you fell asleep.  You were comfortable and safe."

Atton smiled at her.  "Why were you kissing me?"

"I need a reason now?"

He laughed, soft and sweet.  "No, I guess not."  He kissed her again, still drowsy, and held her closer.  "Do you do anything wrong?  Ever?"

"Of course I do.  I'm not perfect."

"I'm not sure I believe you," said Atton softly, and shifted so that he could lay with his head pillowed on her breasts.  "At least, I think you're perfect for me, and that's all I care about."

Ludmilla laughed gently.  "I'd scold you for being so selfish, but the way you say it is so cute."

"What?  Visas has Mandalore, Mira has a bunch of admirers, Bao-Dur has the ship, and Kreia is an evil witch who doesn't need love."

Ludmilla laughed out loud at that.  "Atton!"

"Oh, come on.  You know it's true."  He kissed her again.  "I'm sure she was young and beautiful once.  Back when the Celestials roamed the galaxy."

"Atton," she tried to admonish him, but failed miserably at sounding stern.

"I love when you say my name like that," he smiled.  "It sounds like you're kissing me with your voice."

Ludmilla kissed him properly, delighting in his sweet wickedness.  "Atton?"

"Yes?" he grinned, and kissed her again.

"You know that you can tell me anything, right?  If I do something wrong, or make you unhappy, or if there's something you want, anything.  Just tell me."

"Well," he smiled wickedly at her, "I did think it was rather heartless that you made me walk all the way to and from the camp.  It was hot, and sticky!  And you didn't even ask me if I was tired."  Atton laughed at the look on her face.  "By the Celestials, you are easy to tease."  He kissed her again.  "I'm joking, calm down.  But if that river is in flood next time we go to Dxun, you're carrying me over that thing they called a bridge."

"Okay," she said softly, and he wouldn't let her say anything more, silencing her with wild kisses.

"Stop looking like that!  I was kidding!"  He kissed her again.  "Besides, you made up for it with the bedtime story.  And the shower."

"We haven't taken a shower yet," she pointed out.

"Well then," he said sweetly, and smiled at her.  "We should fix that."


	26. The Woman in the Tower

"Is everyone on this planet going to be like this?" asked Ludmilla in disgust as she walked away from yet another disgruntled, Jedi-hating citizen who didn't recognize her to be a Jedi.  "How can they all hate Jedi so much, and yet not know what they look like?"

"I sense the hand of the Force in this," said Kreia calmly.  "It was well done."

Ludmilla looked at her.

"How else could Master Vrook have remained here to carry on his work?"

"At least he hasn't been hiding out in a slum for the last ten years."

"Hey!" snapped Mira.  "The old guy did a lot of good stuff in that slum!  He wasn't just hiding."

Atton grinned.  "Master Ell's cheerleader."

"He patched up people and gave out money when he could and he took care of the kids when they were sick," Mira insisted.  "Just because he didn't charge out like some people and rile up the whole sector doesn't mean he wasn't helping."

Kreia smiled.  "She does have a point, there."

Ludmilla continued walking towards the ruins without answering.

Canderous grunted, and pointed towards a camp just south of where they walking.  "Those must be the mercenaries everyone has been complaining about."

"We should go see what they're up to," said Bao-Dur calmly.  "Maybe convince them to stop causing so much trouble."

"Good idea," said Ludmilla, and they walked down to the little valley where the mercenaries had set up their camp.  The first thing she noticed where the three Mandalorians standing in the back.

Canderous noticed them as well, and they noticed his armor as well.

"You're the one who's set himself up as a new Mandalore," snarled one of the mercenary Mandalorians using their language, so that the other mercenaries wouldn't understand.

"I am," Canderous confirmed.  He looked them over, noted that their weapons and armor were in good condition.

"So, what does it take to become Mandalore nowadays?" the leader sneered.  "Will any pack of idiots and a shiny new helmet do?"

"I was given the Mask of the Mandalore and commanded to reunite the clans."

"What?  What kind of Mandalore takes orders?  And who would dare to give orders to a Mandalore?"

Canderous shook his head.  "You wouldn't understand."

Ludmilla looked curiously at the Mandalore.  She wondered what he meant, but knew better than to interrupt.

"Well, maybe I'll just take the Mask from you, fangless old fool!"  The mercenary Mandalorian charged, "I'll make myself Mandalore!"

Ludmilla drew back, to let the two men fight it out fairly.  She glanced warningly at her companions, but they had all watched her in the battle circle at the camp on Dxun enough times to know what to expect.  She noticed that Atton had closed his eyes, and was leaning against the trunk of a tree.  Ludmilla started in surprise as she realized what he was doing, but couldn't think of a discreet way to tell him to stop.  From the corner of her eyes, she saw Kreia smiling in silent amusement.  Ludmilla shook her head slightly and watched the fight.

The younger man was stronger, of course, and possibly faster, but the Mandalore was the veteran of hundreds of battles, and despite his age, was still strong, even for a Mandalorian.  He also knew something that the younger Mandalorian had never learned – when to let yourself be hit.  Ludmilla watched the younger Mandalorian land a savage blow to the Mandalore's chest, and draw back to follow the blow with a sweeping kick.  But the Mandalore, cunning and ruthless, followed him, closing with the warrior while he was off-balance, and he, not the Mandalore, fell to the ground in a loud crash of armor.  Canderous hit him again while he was down, but let the younger warrior scramble back to his feet, and took advantage of the move to land a crushing roundhouse kick to the back of the warrior's head.  The mercenary rolled away, and staggered to his feet again, this time, meeting the Mandalore's fist with his head.  He tried one more time, and the Mandalore slammed his knee into the mercenary's chest, then dropped him one final time with a brutal blow to the throat.  The mercenary Mandalorian made a strange noise, then fell to the ground and lay still.

"Anyone else want to challenge me for the Mask?"

The other two Mandalorians shook their heads.

"Good.  Now get your asses off this grassy mudball and get to Dxun.  Your clan is waiting for you."

"In the shadow of the Mandalore," they replied calmly, and stepped over the body of their fallen and disgraced comrade.

"Hey," protested the leader of the mercenary band.  "You guys can't just walk off like that!  We have a contract."

"Mind if I take care of this?" asked Ludmilla politely, and the Mandalore laughed.

Canderous walked over to Atton, who was watching Ludmilla as she talked to the mercenary leader.  "Um...  were you...."

Atton looked at him, false innocence shining from his eyes.  "Was I what?"

Canderous was suddenly very glad for the mask.  "Normally, I don't like men," he growled.  "But Battle Meditation is very attractive."

Atton blinked in surprise.  "I don't know Battle Meditation," he protested.  "Not yet, anyway.  Besides, you have Visas."

"I'd share."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"You can't even see me!"

"I can hear you!  I'm totally gonna tell Visas that you were hitting on me."  Atton crossed his arms and tried to look displeased.

"She'll probably giggle," said Bao-Dur dryly.  "C'mon, Atton, Mandalorians live for battle.  Of course he thinks it's sexy."  Bao-Dur looked curiously at Atton, who was blushing and watching some birds flit through the trees.  "So, how close are you to mastering full Battle Meditation anyway?"

"I have no idea, you have to ask my teacher."  He looked at Bao-Dur.  "And you can stop looking at me like that too, you missed your chance!"

"I'd share," grinned the Iridonian, "but you're way too young for me."  Bao-Dur started humming a small tune and walked away before Atton could say anything.

"How did no one notice that you had that kind of power when you were growing up?" asked Canderous.  "I thought the Core Worlds were very strict about Force-sensitive children being trained as Jedi."

Atton shrugged.  "No one paid any attention to me except my mother.  Certainly not any Jedi," he said with a slight sneer.

Canderous looked at him again.  "They didn't notice you?  Are they all blind?"

With a slightly dark laugh, Atton looked at the Mandalore from under his lashes, then back at the birds.  "You're doing it again.  Where is Visas, anyway?  She and T3 should be here by now."

"Well," Canderous chuckled, "either T3 has run off with her, she's found some flowers to cuddle, or she's found Mira alone in a dark alley."

"Yes, that would delay her, all right," Atton laughed.

"What's so funny?" Mira demanded, as she walked up to the group with Goto floating along behind her.  "This planet sucks.  They have crap for supplies, and everyone is just so nasty.  I don't think these people can do anything without saying mean things about Jedi first.  It's like the new planetary religion."

"Okay, can you people please leave my camp?" demanded the angry mercenary leader.  "It's bad enough you stole my best crewmembers and killed my lieutenant."

"I didn't kill your lieutenant," Canderous protested, and saw the young woman lying awkwardly on the ground next to Ludmilla's feet.  "Oh."

"Let's just go," said Ludmilla.  "Hi, Mira.  Hi, Goto."  She started walking away from the scowling mercenaries.

"I didn't notice you fighting," said Canderous.  "Did I miss anything good?"

"You were too busy ogling Atton."

"You didn't miss much," grinned Atton.  "She didn't put up much of a fight, and her neck was apparently made of twigs."

Canderous laughed.  "Ah well.  Two less mercs for the people of this planet to whine about."

"There's Visas," Ludmilla pointed, "she's found the tree."

"The tree," said Kreia softly.  "It's been a long time."

The trunk was broad and easy to climb; the branches were numerous, wide, sheltering; the leaves were green and soft.  There was no doubt in anyone's mind which tree was 'the tree.'  Kreia sprang lightly to one of the lower branches, and settled herself calmly with her back to the trunk of the tree.  Ludmilla and Atton climbed up to the higher branches, trying not to giggle as birds and butterflies flew around them, and the occasional fuzzy thing squeaked indignantly at the Jedi in the tree.

Canderous looked up at Visas, who was sitting comfortably on one of the branches.  "I can totally see up your skirt, you know."

"Liar," smiled Visas, and he laughed softly.

Mira sat down at the base of the tree, and picked a few flowers.  "This is a really nice tree."

"It has been here as long as anyone can remember," said Kreia calmly.

T3 was going in circles around the tree for no discernible reason, and Goto was trying to get him to stop, without much success.

Bao-Dur sat down opposite Mira, looking out at the fields of Dantooine.  "You can still see the outlines of the farms."

"This place needs more people," said Mira.  "Non-sucky people.  It's too bad you can't move some of the families from Nar Shadaa out here."

"Why can't we?" asked Ludmilla, hanging upside down from a branch.

Mira looked up at her.  "Well, the slavers won't let them off the planet, for one thing, and there's no ship from there to here."

Ludmilla looked at Canderous.  "Send them a Mandalorian escort.  We can rent a transport ship or something."

"They could do that," said Canderous.  "It'd be an easy run.  How much does a transport ship cost?"

"Wouldn't you have to buy farmland or something?  Somewhere for them to live?" asked Atton.  "And how are you going to convince the refugees to actually go with the Mandalorians?"

"Oh, I could go do the convincing," said Mira.  "It wouldn't take long.  I could be back here in a day, if you let me take the ship."

"Okay," said Ludmilla calmly.

"I'll go too, to make sure nothing goes wrong," said the Mandalore.  "And Visas will come too, in case we need a Jedi."

Visas nodded in agreement.

"Still have to buy farmland," Atton pointed out.

"Farms for ten families have been purchased, and a transport ship arranged.  The names of the twenty most populous families in the Refugee sector have been downloaded to your personal datapad, Mira," said Goto.  "If the first ten are successfully transplanted, we can expand the experiment for more families."

"Wait, you bought the farms?  I thought you said you were broke, Goto!" exclaimed Mira.

"That was days ago," Goto sneered.

"Pay me my bounty!" Mira insisted.

"I have already paid the bounty," Goto explained.  "To the Jedi.  Who promptly wasted it all on good deeds."

Ludmilla grinned.  "Sorry, Mira."

T3 beeped happily.

"Yep, you get to fly the ship again, T3.  Take them where they need to go, then come back to Dantooine," Ludmilla grinned at the little droid.

"I can fly the ship," Canderous protested, and T3 squeaked at him sharply.  "Fine, fine, you can fly it."

"And no fighting," warned Ludmilla.

Mira rolled her eyes.  "Yes, mom."

"What?" said Canderous.  "I want them to fight!  Naked."

Visas blushed.  "Stop being so perverted," she protested weakly as Canderous helped her, quite unnecessarily, down from the tree.

"Stop being so sexy," he retorted.  "Look, what if you get to wear chocolate instead of clothes?  Would you fight her then?"

"That's disgusting!" said Mira in shock.

"But you like chocolate," said Canderous hopefully.  "Oh, come on.  Atton would do it."

Mira's jaw dropped open in shock, and Visas turned bright red.

Ludmilla looked curiously at Atton.  "Would you?"

"For you?  Definitely," he grinned.

"I'm not sure I want to be alone on a ship with you," said Mira as she started walking back to the spaceport.

"It's okay," said Canderous, reassuringly.  "T3 will be there.  I'm sure he'll be a great help."

T3 beeped in agreement.  Mira made a noise of disgust, and Visas sighed as Canderous burst into laughter as they all walked away.

Kreia smiled as she watched them.  "I wonder how long it has been since someone laughed here."

"Do Jedi laugh?" asked Atton, and the bird he was holding flew away to go investigate a different branch.

Ludmilla shook her head.  "They're not supposed to, anyway.  They're supposed to be serious and grim at all times."

Bao-Dur looked at her.  "How did you survive the training?"

"I got in trouble a lot," she grinned, and jumped down out of the tree, landing lightly.  "Ooh, pansies!  I love these!"

Kreia looked at her in surprise.  "You don't seem like someone who would like flowers."

"She likes them dipped in sugar," Bao-Dur explained.  "The petals are edible."

"That makes more sense," laughed Kreia.  "I imagine the Masters must have had quite the time with you, girl."

Ludmilla picked a handful of pansies and violets, and laughed at the memories.  "There was this one time, I got into a fight with one of Master Vrook's Padawans.  My Master was on Coruscant, so he had to go to Master Vandar to try and get me disciplined.  Not for the fight itself, because everyone agreed that I was justified – he wanted me to be punished for disagreeing with his Padawan in the first place.  He thought that I was too violent, and he didn't like that some of the other Padawans copied me in standing up and challenging the older students."

"So you were born a leader," said Bao-Dur.  "I always wondered."

Ludmilla blushed.  "Actually, most of the students couldn't stand me.  But the ones who were my friends would have followed me anywhere.  That's what Vrook hated most about me."  She laughed.  "Vrook also said I would never be more than a mediocre Jedi, that I didn't have a strong connection to the Force."

Kreia smiled.  "His dislike of you blinds him to your strengths.  A foolish way for a Jedi Master to behave."

Atton jumped down to a lower branch, then another, before landing gracefully on the ground next to Ludmilla.  "He sounds like a typical Jedi."

"He really does," Bao-Dur agreed.

Goto floated over to Ludmilla and looked at her.

"What?" said Ludmilla in surprise.

"You are a very curious individual," Goto observed.  "That is all."  The droid floated away again.

Ludmilla frowned at him, but Atton distracted her by taking the flowers away.

"I just realized that the ship flew off with all our food," he said sadly.  "We'll have to eat rations and local food."  He started pulling off the petals and setting them aside in a clean cloth napkin from his pocket.

"Then what are you doing?" asked Ludmilla.

"I packed the rations," he explained.  "I think there's enough sugar for these.  Or maybe I can make some candy syrup from the honey," he mused, watching the bees at work.  "I bet I could."

"Did you pack any chocolate?" asked Kreia.

"Of course I did," said Atton sharply.  "Do I look like a savage to you?"

"Is there cider?" asked Bao-Dur hopefully.

Atton nodded.  "No ale, though," he smiled at Ludmilla, "you'll have to make do with that blue stuff that burns."

"I'll live," she grinned.

Atton looked curiously at Kreia.  "So, you weren't here when Ludmilla was?"

Kreia shook her head.  "I was not."

"So where were you?" asked Bao-Dur.  "Coruscant?"

"For a time," said Kreia reluctantly.  "I worked in the archives there, sorting and storing Jedi artifacts."

"Wow," said Atton, "that sounds really dull."

"You would think so," said Kreia dryly.  "I found it fascinating, to see how history had unfolded to the present day.  To search out the hidden truths buried within the simplest remnant days long gone.  For every story I uncovered, there were a hundred questions raised.  Questions that could never be answered."

"You sound like Revan," grinned Ludmilla.  "Always seeking the undiscovered truths.  Digging up stories that the Jedi want to leave buried."

Kreia smiled.  "Yes, I think that we might have that in common.  The Jedi Order wants to leave itself as the sole arbiter of the Force in the galaxy.  But how can one claim to stand for the Light if one has never seen the Dark?  If there is no contrast, both sides might as well be one."

"That's like, heresy, isn't it?" frowned Bao-Dur.

"Perhaps," said Kreia slowly.

Ludmilla looked at the old woman carefully.  "Okay, that really sounded like Revan.  I can't believe I never asked this before, but, did you know Revan?"

Kreia smiled gently.  "We have met."

"Which means you taught her."

Kreia nodded.  "And I learned much from her as well.  Quite a humbling experience, I must admit.  She did not look like someone who would be so well-read."

Ludmilla was silent, thinking over the past.

"Should we move on, then?" said Kreia, gently.  "Or did you have more questions?"

Ludmilla shook her head.  "Maybe later," she said absently, and they continued on their way to the ruins of the Enclave.


	27. Charms and Tokens, pt.6

They walked into the remains of the library.  Kreia sighed sadly at the destruction and the mess.  Ludmilla looked around in shock, trying to understand why, shaking her head slowly.  Bao-Dur was stunned by the bodies still lying on the floor here and there, the fallen Jedi and students that the scavengers hadn't bothered to give a decent burial.

Atton was looking at the man in the room, who was staring at Ludmilla in shock.

The man had set aside his armor, but still had a heavy blaster close at hand, and a blaster pistol at his hip.  He looked to be just a bit taller than she was, but inclining to stoutness rather than muscle.  He had soft, wavy blonde hair, with deep blue eyes, and a perfectly average face.  Not too handsome, not too remarkable in any way.  Except for the smile.

Ludmilla finally noticed him.  "Oh, hello.  You're not who I was expecting to find," she said in surprise.

He smiled at her, and bowed gracefully.  "I was just thinking the same thing," he said in a rich and perfectly modulated voice, his pure Core World accent clearly showing an upper echelon upbringing.

"You're no scavenger," said Kreia slowly.

"Certainly not," he smiled.  "I'm a historian, from Coruscant.  I've been trying to recover some of the most valuable artifacts for the Jedi Temple."  He sighed.  "Sadly, it seems that the majority have already been taken, by someone who clearly knew what to look for."

Ludmilla frowned.  "I wonder who would have – " she stopped herself.  "My name is Ludmilla Sîvoš, by the way."  She held out her hand in polite greeting, and he took it warmly.

"My name is Mical," he introduced himself.  "I'm afraid that's really all the name I have," he laughed.

Ludmilla looked at him in confusion.  "What happened to your family?"

"War," he shrugged carelessly.  "It really isn't important, is it?"

Ludmilla looked at him again.  "I guess not," she said slowly.  She looked around at the destruction of the library and the archives, then back at Mical again.  "Have we met?"

Mical smiled again.  "I didn't think you'd remember," he said softly.  "But yes, we have.  It was a very long time ago," he said quickly.

"You were one of the students!" said Ludmilla suddenly.  "You were – "  It was times like this when Ludmilla wished that the Force had a physical manifestation that she could punch.  "You were one of my students."

"Before you left for the war, yes."

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted.  "What happened?  Why didn't you finish your training?"

Mical smiled at her confusion.  "I'm afraid I was rather stubborn as a child.  I refused to accept the Master that the Enclave wanted to assign me, so I was sent to Coruscant while they tried to decide what to do.  And then," he looked around at the ruins, "this happened."

"Who did they want to be your Master?" asked Kreia.

"Master Vrook," said Mical calmly.  "He did not compare well to the Master I wanted to follow."

Bao-Dur grinned.  "The Force really does have it in for you, General."  He held out his hand.  "My name is Bao-Dur, by the way."

"A pleasure," said Mical.  He looked curiously at Kreia.  "And you are?"

"I am Kreia," she replied calmly.  "You will not have heard of me, child.  I left the Order before you entered it."

"Left the Order?" said Mical in surprise.  "Whatever for?"

"Heresy," smiled Kreia, and laughed at her own joke.

Ludmilla shook her head, and her eyes fell on a small petal that had fallen from her sleeve.  Suddenly she looked around, trying not to panic.

"Is something wrong?" asked Mical, slightly worried.

"He's hiding," said Ludmilla, trying to fight down her rising panic.  She looked around the ruins again, trying to find some sign of Atton.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Shut up!" she snarled, trying to concentrate on scanning the room with her eyes.  "Stay here."  She walked away from the others, still looking around the room.  "Dammit, Atton, stop doing this to me," she whispered to herself.  She looked around the room again, at the crumbling walls, the broken tables, the shattered terminals.  Her heart was racing.  She couldn't sense him at all, she couldn't see him anywhere.  But when she looked at the computer terminal for the third time, he was there, sitting calmly and playing with the broken screen as if nothing was wrong.  "Atton!"

She raced over to him, and pulled him to her before she could stop herself.

"What?" he said innocently.  "Were you looking for me or something?  I thought you were still talking to that guy."

She hated it, she hated that note in his voice.  He was jealous, but wouldn't allow himself to be.  "Of course I was looking for you!" she said fiercely.  "Don't do that!"

"What?" he looked at her, his dark eyes wide and emotionless beyond a faint hint of surprise.  "I didn't do anything."

"Atton!"  She was trying not to be angry, but she had no idea how to explain herself to him.  She held him tightly instead, trying to calm herself.

He felt her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing swift and unsteady.  "You really were worried," he said quietly.  Atton put his arms around her, and felt her hands dig into his hair, his back.  "You really were looking for me." Atton could feel her emotions, and her struggle for control.  It wasn't fear, not exactly – more a sense of acute distress.  "I didn't think you would get so upset," he whispered softly.

"How could you think that?" she whispered, her voice low and strained.  "How could you think I wouldn't care?"

"I'm – " he didn't want to say he was sorry, because he wasn't.  How could he be sorry to see that she cared so much?  "I didn't think it would hurt you," he closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder, reveling in her need.  "I'm not very good at reading people, remember?"

She laughed shakily, and hugged him so tightly it was almost painful, but he didn't complain.  "You need a leash!" she said, forcing herself to laugh, and then kissed him, wildly, possessively, and had to force herself to let go.

He smiled, and made a soft noise of agreement.  "Cuffs, too."  He laughed at the look on her face.  "What?  Then I wouldn't have to do any work.  I could just lie there, and you could pet me all day!"  He sighed happily.  "What a nice dream."  Atton kissed her, smiling to himself as he realized that his lips were actually bruised and slightly tender.

Ludmilla laughed.  "Come on, you're going to meet Mical and you're going to be nice to him."

"Sure," Atton agreed.  "For now."

She took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, holding him firmly as she led him back to the others.


	28. Ladders of Light

Mical turned to Bao-Dur in shock.  "Did she just kiss him?"

Bao-Dur sighed.  "Get used to it."

"Well, I suppose it's not really any of my business," said Mical in some confusion.  "But she is a Jedi, and she's not supposed to – she just kissed him again!"

"No, he kissed her."  Bao-Dur smiled to himself.  "I think that's funny.  You really think you're not going to get mixed up in this."

"What?"

Kreia laughed as well.  "At least this one won't write on the walls."

Mical looked at Kreia, then at Bao-Dur.  "I'm sorry, I think I missed something?"

Ludmilla walked up, and gently drew Atton forward.  "Mical, this is Atton Rand, our pilot.  Atton, this is Mical, a Republic historian, and one of my former students that I never finished training."

"A historian," said Atton, "really?"  He deliberately did not look at the armor and the rifle.  "How fascinating."  He bowed politely, without letting go of Ludmilla's hand.

"I need a drink," Ludmilla muttered under her breath.

"So," asked Atton, "are you going to finish his training?"  He looked at her curiously.

"Uh....."

"Oh," Mical laughed politely and a little coldly.  "I'm much too old."

"Really?" said Atton innocently, and looked at Ludmilla.  "It worked on me."

"I beg your pardon?"  Mical stared at him, then at Ludmilla, who shrugged.

"I know, it's against the rules, horribly dangerous, and so forth.  But I'm willing to take the risk if you are.  We could use some more Jedi."  She kicked Bao-Dur in the shins.

"Ow!  No way, General."  Bao-Dur moved away from her.  "If you're so desperate, why don't you train Mira?"

"She's as bad as you, old man."

Mical looked around in confusion.  "I'm sorry, I don't understand.  Have you really been going around training people as Jedi?  Why?"

"So they can help me stop the Sith Lords, of course.  Why else?"

"But – what of the Council?  And weren't you exiled?"

Ludmilla shrugged again.  "Someone has to do something.  The Council is all in hiding.  And speaking of exile, have you seen Master Vrook anywhere?  He's supposed to be here somewhere."

Mical turned to Kreia.  "Is everyone here mad?"

"Allow me," Kreia pulled Mical away, and sat him down on some nearby blocks, and began to explain.

Bao-Dur went back to exploring the room.  "General.  Come take a look at this."

Ludmilla joined him, as did Atton because she was still holding his hand.  "Hey, those bodies are new."

The bodies in question were a pile of mercenaries, in battered but serviceable armor.  They showed clear signs of having been hit with a lightsaber.

Atton picked up a datapad that was half-hidden beneath one of the bodies.  "Oh, hey.  Didn't we meet an Azkul?"

"Yeah, that was the leader of that mercenary camp.  The one that's down two Mandalorians," said Ludmilla.  "Why?"

"Oh, it appears he hates Vrook even more than you do."  He handed her the datapad.  "He's got Vrook captive in some kinrath caves somewhere."

"The kinrath caves?  They're quite nearby," said Mical.  He walked over, looking vaguely stunned.  "I can show you the way.  But, first...  may I speak to you, for a moment?" he asked humbly.

Ludmilla smiled.  She looked at Atton.  "Here," she handed him over to Bao-Dur.  "Don't let go of him.  Tie him down if you have to."

"Can I just preemptively tie him down?" asked Bao-Dur.  "Why don't you get him a leash or something if you're so worried about losing him?"

"Don't tempt me," said Ludmilla.  "Come on," she led Mical away from the others, into the alcoves where stacks of ancient Jedi texts had once lined the shelves.

"You know," said Kreia slowly, "I know well how to make people not notice me, but I've never been able to actually disappear the way you do."

"You're just not trying hard enough," Atton grinned.  He looked curiously at Bao-Dur.  "You know, if you let go for a second, I could demonstrate again."

"Not a chance.  The General gave me an order, and I don't feel like finding out what happens if I disobey it."

"I'd come back!  I promise."

"How can you tell when a Corellian is lying?"

"Oh, not this again," said Atton in mock disgust, and Kreia laughed.

"You still have that light about you," said Mical softly.  "I always loved watching you teach.  It didn't matter what you were talking about, you just made everything so simple and interesting, we all wanted to learn."

Ludmilla smiled.  "I was too impulsive back then.  I should have thought more about what effect my actions would have on the lives of the people around me."

"Would you have changed anything?"

Ludmilla closed her eyes, and shook her head.  "No, I wouldn't change any of the choices that I made.  But at least I wouldn't be constantly surprised," she smiled ruefully.  "I really am sorry that I left all of you the way I did.  I should have said goodbye, at least."

Mical smiled back at her.  "I think I'm more pleased that you came back.  It really was a shock to see you.  You haven't changed at all."

"Jedi magic," she laughed.  "You look very tired," she noted.  "You must have been working very hard lately.  You always did throw yourself into your work," she remembered.  "You need to relax more."

"There's been quite a lot to do," he sighed.  "So much of the Jedi history is lost forever, and for a time it seemed that the light of the Jedi Order would fade from the galaxy entirely.  I hoped to have some small part in saving something, some trace of the Jedi, some memory of the Order as I remembered it."

"Well," she smiled, "I think you're going to be called on to do a lot more, if you're willing."

Mical swallowed nervously.  "If you're willing to take me as your disciple again, I'm willing to help you.  More than willing."

Ludmilla smiled sweetly, trying to set him at ease.  "I never gave you up.  Just as you never gave up on me."  She took his hands in hers, and concentrated on the faint bond between them, strengthening it.  "We have always been Master and Disciple, Mical."

Mical gasped as the Force raced through him, filling in the parts of his soul that had waited patiently for years.

"I'm going to rely on your wisdom, Mical.  I've been out of touch for a long time."

"Of course," he said, still slightly dazed.  "I'll help in any way I can," he vowed.  "Did you – did you see that?"

"What?" she asked curiously.

"I had a vision," he said, confused.  Mical shook his head, trying to clear it.  "I think it was of the future," he said uncertainly.

"Really?" asked Ludmilla.  "What was it?"

Mical shook his head again, and pursed his lips in disbelief.  "It was quite mad, really.  I was building a sand castle, of all things.  It was for a little girl, and Senators in beach clothes kept coming up and interrupting me."

Ludmilla burst out laughing.  "Really?  Were you in beach clothes?"

"Yes.  And you were there as well, and so was your friend, Atton."

"Atton?  At the beach?  What was he doing?"

"Nothing at all, just lying in the sun."  Mical frowned, trying to clear the vision from his head.  "He was very emphatically doing nothing whatsoever."

Ludmilla smiled.  "Well, that sounds like a good future to aim for."

"Well, yes," he said reluctantly, "but that's completely impossible."

Ludmilla shrugged.  "Never underestimate the craziness of the Force."

"Oh, but – " Mical gave up, and tried not to think about the dark-haired little girl with his eyes.  "Never mind."

She couldn't help herself from grinning.  "So, do you remember your lightsaber lessons?"

Mical nodded.  "I practice the forms daily.  I think it kept me sane for a while there, and the habit just stuck with me."

"The Force does work in mysterious ways," she smiled.  "When my ship gets back, we can see about building you a lightsaber."

Mical looked at her in surprise.  "You're serious."

"You can help me teach Visas and Atton.  They're having trouble with some of the basic forms.  They need more sparring practice."  She laughed again at his shock.  "What?"  She threw out her arms, as if embracing the entire world, the entire galaxy.  "Did you really expect less from the Force?"  For a moment, she opened herself to it completely, throwing her joy and happiness as far as she could.  Dantooine would be rebuilt, she knew, and the Order would be restored – if slightly different for a time.  Life would return to this world, and to Telos – there would be children, crops, fireflies; people would fall in love, travel, shop, grow old.

"Good heavens," said Mical, stunned at the sight of someone channeling the raw power of the Force.

"If you're going to hide from the Sith, perhaps you shouldn't you broadcast your location like that," snapped Kreia.

"Sorry," smiled Ludmilla.  "I was happy."

"We know."  Kreia shook her head.  "A little self-control, girl, that is all I ask.  Come, let us leave this place."  She looked at their newest Jedi.  "I think we have found all we need."


	29. One Voice

Atton handed Ludmilla another plate of food.  He had commandeered Mical's equipment without asking, making happy comments about plates and how glad he was not to have to eat with his hands, completely ignoring Mical's half-hearted protests.

"Oh, thank you," she said gratefully, and continued working on her lightsaber.  They had camped under the tree for the night, as it was too far to return to the spaceport, and everyone except Ludmilla was worn out.

Atton watched her for a few minutes.  She was completely absorbed in her work, and he finally got up to find something else to do.  Atton started, at the feel of a hand on his arm.  He tried to pull away, but Mical didn't let go.

"I just want to ask you a question," said Mical quietly, and walked just out of Ludmilla's hearing, with Atton in tow.

"What?" said Atton shortly.

"Did you see a datapad while you were going through my things?"

Atton looked calmly at Mical, and pulled his arm out of Mical's grasp.  "Yes.  I put it down on your bag.  It's over there somewhere."  He waved in the general direction of the camp.

"No, it isn't," said Mical patiently.

"Well, that's where I put it."

Mical just looked at him.

"I think that's where I put it anyway," Atton amended.  "Does it matter?  Was there something important on it?  Republic encryption keys or something?"

Mical gritted his teeth and forced himself not to answer.

"I'll look for it after I do the cleaning up.  What, it's not like you have to file a mission report to your superiors at a certain time or something.  I'm sure that your superiors in the historical archives can wait until morning to hear that you didn't find any new artifacts.  It's not like you're reporting to an admiral on the whereabouts of the Exile or anything," said Atton in a completely innocent voice, slightly tinged with impudent humor.

"By the Celestials, I really want to slap you."

Atton grinned.  "You wouldn't dare."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're being deliberately infuriating."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," grinned Atton.  "Besides, if it's really important, I could just drop everything and search for your precious datapad.  If it was so important, why weren't you carrying it in your bag in the first place?"

"You've already read it, haven't you?"

"What are you talking about?  Your datapad?  Didn't it have a password on it?  I was more interested in the plates and stuff in your bag.  I still need to find a bowl big enough for making syrup in.  Or a jar.  Do you think they'd have something I could use at that one store by the spaceport?"  Atton pondered.  "Probably not.  I think I'll pick some more flowers.  Then I can just wait for the ship to get back."

"No," said Mical sternly.  "You are going to clean up and give me back my datapad."

"I am?" said Atton in surprise.  "Fine, whatever."  Atton turned to head back to the camp, but Mical grabbed his arm again.  "Hey, I need that arm.  What is it now?"

"Go pick your flowers," said Mical with a sigh.  "I'll do the cleaning."

"Really?" Atton smiled.  "Cool!  Thanks," he flashed a bright smile at Mical and walked back to the tree, pausing only to pick up a bag to hold all the flowers.  Humming a little song, Atton began collecting more flowers to make candy and syrup.

Mical gritted his teeth, and went back to the camp.

"I thought Atton said he was going to clean those," said Bao-Dur.  "How did he trick you into doing it?"

"Don't ask," said Mical, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice.

Bao-Dur grinned, and shook his head.  "What's this?"  He picked up a datapad from the ground just beyond the cooking area, and dusted it off.

"Oh, that's probably mine," said Mical with relief.  "Could you put it in my bag?"

"Sure."  Bao-Dur tossed the datapad into Mical's bag.  "Do you need any help with that?"

"Not really, but if you could put the clean things away, I would appreciate it."  Mical smiled gratefully, and the two men quickly cleared away the mess.  Bao-Dur left to check the perimeter of the camp, and Mical pulled out his datapad.  He stared at the screen, then tossed it back into his bag in quiet anger and went to go look for Atton.

He found him almost where he had first left him, but Atton had wandered a little farther away from camp, and was kneeling on the ground, alternately plucking petals from flowers to put into a bag and feeding nuts to a small red tree-dwelling creature that was watching him curiously.  Mical made a small noise of irritation, and Atton, trying not to smile, heard.  Atton stood, and turned to face him, still holding to his façade of complete innocence.

Mical was about to speak, then suddenly moved forward, tackling Atton to the ground and shielding him from the kath hound's spring with his own body.  The beast missed them completely, and with a savage snarl, ran away without attacking a second time.  "Loathsome things," Mical frowned.  "I hate when they do that.  Are you all right?" he asked Atton.  Atton nodded quickly without speaking, and Mical helped him back to his feet.  "You shouldn't wander so far from the camp," he admonished.  "Here," he handed Atton his bags.

Atton accepted them quietly, and walked back to the camp with Mical.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Mical asked nervously.  "I'm fairly certain being this quiet isn't normal for you."

Atton smiled.  "I'm fine, it's just…" he sighed.  Atton stopped, and faced Mical.  "I'm sorry for messing around with your datapad."

"What?  Oh, that," Mical shook his head.  "It's not that important, really, I shouldn't have – I really am a historian, you know.  Perhaps I should have been more clear that I also happen to be a bit more.  I'll explain to her in the morning."  Mical smiled.  "I hope there won't be any more misunderstandings."

"Yeah," Atton sighed.  "I'm gonna go put these away.  Thank you, Mical."

Mical watched him walk away, still confused and somewhat concerned.  "Did I say something wrong?"

Atton didn't appear to hear him, and kept walking.  "Oh, hey, Ludmilla."  Atton smiled at her as she stood up, putting her lightsaber away.  "I think Mical wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?"  Ludmilla looked at Mical, and Atton took the opportunity to slip away.  He managed to stay out of Mical's way until Ludmilla sent everyone to bed, staying up herself to keep watch.

"Are you certain you don't want any of us to take a watch?" asked Mical.

"I'll be fine," Ludmilla smiled.  "Get some rest."

Everyone settled down, and Ludmilla listened to the sounds of her crew at rest.  She smiled to herself.

"I said, get some rest, Atton."

"I am resting," he protested quietly.  He sat up slightly, propping his head on his arms.  "Did Mical talk to you?"

"He did."  Ludmilla smiled at him, then went back to watching the kath hounds just outside the shadows of the camp.

"Did he say anything?  About me?"  Atton asked nervously.

Ludmilla smiled again.  "Not anything specific, just that you were annoying him.  But you annoy everyone, so that's nothing special."  She looked at him, grinning.  "Is it?"

Atton shook his head quickly.  "I was uh...  just wondering.  So, what did you talk about?  His job?"

"Yes, he wanted to clarify things a bit.  He was worried," she smiled again, "that people didn't trust him.  Oh, he did say something about someone getting honey all over his datapad.  I hope you apologized."

Atton blushed.  "I apologized."  He was silent for a moment.  "What did you tell him?"

Ludmilla shrugged.  "We're all on the same side.  We're not in conflict with his orders, and I have nothing to hide from anyone."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?  You didn't tell him anything else?" Atton asked nervously.

"Of course not," she said gently.  "If there's something you want him to know, you should tell him yourself."

"I can't talk to him," said Atton.  "Nothing comes out right."

"Butterflies in the stomach?  Knees get weak?"

Atton stared at her, and Ludmilla laughed.

"What?  He's handsome, a lot better looking than that jerk on Nar Shadaa."

Atton's eyes went wide, and he paled slightly.  "What?"

"Oh, come on, I'm stupid sometimes, but I'm not that stupid."  Atton didn't speak, and she went on.  "I'm not completely blind, either.  I have noticed you flirting with Bao-Dur and Canderous – the only difference is, it might actually work on Mical.  Which I have no problem with.  What I do have a problem with," she said gently, "is when you act like you don't trust me.  I really hate that."

"It's not you that I don't trust," said Atton softly.  "I don't trust myself."

"I do," she said simply.

Atton sighed.  "I still can't talk to him."  He hid his head in his arms, then pulled his pillow over his head.

"Do you want me to tell him for you?  He's still going to ask you about it, you know."

"That's fine," said Atton, his voice muffled by the pillow.  "I just don't want him to find out the wrong way."

Ludmilla threw a rock, scaring away the kath hounds that were circling the camp, and knelt down next to Atton.  She gently took the pillow away and rearranged it under his head, making him comfortable.  She bent over him and kissed him gently on the lips.  "I'll talk to him," she said, and kissed him again.  "Now go to sleep."  Ludmilla watched him as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, then went back to watching the shadows and listening to the soft breathing of her crew.  "Seriously?" she muttered.  "You know, eavesdropping is a bad habit.  And we're going to be getting up at dawn whether you've gotten any sleep or not."

"I do apologize," said Mical softly.  "I got distracted."  He sat up and looked at her.  "What was he talking about?"

Ludmilla smiled.  "He's very insecure sometimes, and he wants people to like him."

"Then why does he act like a spoiled brat?" Mical demanded.

"Because that's all he knows," she said gently.  "Well, that, and hiding so well that people forget he's there at all."

"I wondered about that," said Mical slowly.  "Where would you learn such a skill?"

"According to Kreia, it's mostly instinct.  She does it herself a bit.  He's much better at it, though."

"There were rumors," said Mical carefully, "during the Jedi Civil War, about an elite group of Sith Assassins.  One of them was a very young Corellian, noted for having a Bloodstripe – and for being exceptionally attractive."

"What the – Atton is the Incubus?" Bao-Dur sat up and stared at Ludmilla.  "You knew?"

"Was," Ludmilla corrected.  "And why aren't you asleep, old man?"

"You turned a bloodthirsty murderer into a Jedi?" asked Bao-Dur.

"Hey, it's not my fault the universe is so hard up for Jedi," she smiled.  "Seriously, old man, what did you expect?  That I'd hear his confession and leave him on Nar Shadaa to become a Sith instead?"

"Well, no," said Bao-Dur.  "You really take that forgiveness thing seriously, don't you?"

Ludmilla smiled, proud and unable to keep herself from radiating a bit of happiness.  "It hasn't failed me yet."

"No," Bao-Dur agreed.  "It hasn't.  I'm glad you didn't leave him behind."  He grinned up at her.  "You know, the Republic is pretty outnumbered in your crew.  You have two ex-Sith, two ex-Jedi, a Mandalorian, an Exchange crimelord, and a crazy droid.  All against one Republic Intelligence Officer," he grinned at Mical.  "Anyway, I'm glad the kid has someone else to annoy besides me.  I don't think my hearts can take much more of his accidental touching."  Bao-Dur lay down again.  "Good night, General."

"Sleep well, old man."

"Did everyone know that I was Republic Intelligence?"

"I had no clue," Ludmilla assured him.

"Yes, but you take everyone at their word," Mical sighed.  He looked at her curiously.  "Would you trust Atton if you weren't in love with him?"

"Would I be in love with him if I didn't trust him?"

Mical didn't know how to answer that.  "And… you really would have no problem… with, er...."

Ludmilla laughed.  "So long as I get to watch sometimes."

Mical blushed brightly.  "I'm not….  I don't – Good night, Master Sîvoš."

"Ugh, don't call me that.  It makes me feel like I'm a hundred or something."

Mical blinked at her in surprise.  "But you're – "

"Good night, Disciple."

"Of course," Mical smiled softly.  "Good night."


	30. Frozen Wings

"I wish I hadn't let Goto go with them," grumbled Ludmilla.  "Now I have no idea when they'll be back."

Atton handed her a cup of warm tea and a plate of food without speaking.

"I'm being early morning grumpy, aren't I," she laughed.  "Sorry."  She sipped the tea gratefully.  "Oh, you are so good to me," she whispered, and kissed Atton on the cheek.

He grinned.  "All I did was put extra sugar in it."

"And it's delicious!"  Ludmilla ate her food, and looked over at Mical and Bao-Dur, who were still asleep.  "I should wake them up."

"It's their own fault," said Kreia acidly.  "They stayed up half the night talking."

"What were they talking about?" asked Atton curiously.  "They just met."

"They were talking about broken things," Kreia answered.

Bao-Dur opened an eye, and looked at Kreia without speaking.

"Get up," Kreia snapped.  "We have an idiot to rescue."

"Rescue?  I'm just delivering a message," Ludmilla grumbled.  "He can rescue himself."

Atton handed her a plate of berries drenched in honey.

"Oooh!"

Mical sat up in confusion, probably trying to figure out where the noise was coming from, and Atton handed him a cup of coffee.  "Oh, thank you," said Mical.  "Where – what – "

"Just drink the coffee," Atton suggested.  "How long does it take you to wake up in the morning?" he asked curiously.

"I'm awake," said Mical blearily.  "I need some water first.  And a shave," he mumbled.  He sniffed the coffee.  "Oh, wonderful," he murmured happily, and wandered off to perform his morning ablutions.

"How did you know he was a coffee drinker?" asked Ludmilla.

Atton blushed.  "I went through his stuff."

"Atton!"  She shook her finger at him.  "Bad!"  She reached out and poked Bao-Dur.  "Get up, old man, before the Republic spy drinks all the coffee."

Bao-Dur grumbled something uncomplimentary, and got up.  "I'm getting too old to sleep on the ground."

"What are you talking about?  Dantooine has the softest ground anywhere, except for the beach on Coruscant, which only wins because it's always the perfect temperature."

"It's too loud," he grumbled.  "Skwirrets chattering, owls hunting, insects buzzing.  Jedi throwing rocks."

Ludmilla snickered.

"What's a skwirret?" Atton asked.

Ludmilla and Bao-Dur pointed at the small fuzzy creature sitting next to Atton, waiting for another nut.  It helpfully made a chattering noise, to remind Atton that it was waiting.

"Oh."  Atton poked it, and it made even more noise, and he grinned before handing it some more food.

"You aren't supposed to feed those," said Mical as he returned from the small stream.  "It just encourages them."

Atton shrugged.  "Not much different from anyone else around here."  He handed Mical a plate of fresh fruit and cream, with a gently warmed roll of buttered bread.

"Oh, thank you," Mical took the plate, and stared at it for a second.

"Just eat it," said Atton.  "You can yell at me for violating your privacy after breakfast."  He handed Mical a bowl of cream for his coffee.

Mical took the cream and sighed, then sat down to eat his breakfast.  He looked up, and noticed Atton watching him.  "What are you doing?"

Kreia sipped her chocolate.  "The boy wants to know how you like your coffee," she explained.  "That way he can have more time to annoy you in the morning."

Mical tried not to laugh.  "Where did you find all this food?"

"Rations from the ship," said Atton calmly.

"This is your idea of rations?" Mical laughed.  "That almost makes up for you reading all of my expense reports."

Atton grinned, and went to get Bao-Dur his coffee and breakfast.

They finished eating and broke up camp.  "Would you like me to go back to the spaceport and wait for our companions?" asked Kreia.

"Please say yes," pleaded Atton.

Ludmilla tried to frown at Atton.  "If you wouldn't mind, Kreia, I would really appreciate it.  I'm a little worried about them."

Kreia nodded.  "I shall return to Khoonda.  And don't think I'm ignoring you, boy.  I'm just giving you credit for that chocolate pastry."

Atton grinned, and they walked over to the kinrath caves while Kreia returned to the spaceport to wait for the return of the Ebon Hawk.  The caves were somewhat foreboding, but the mercenaries had installed lighting throughout the cave system.

"Shouldn't there be a guard?" asked Bao-Dur.

"There's someone," Atton pointed at a mercenary who was carefully examining the walls.  "But he's not guarding."

"It looks like he's taking samples," said Bao-Dur in confusion.  "Excuse me, are you doing a survey on the geological deposits?"

The mercenary jumped in surprise, and turned around.  "What the – don't sneak up on me like that," said the mercenary, a Twi'lek, holding a small sample case and a collection of datapads.  "These tunnels are too dark, I've asked for more light but they're always complaining about power draw and resources.  How is a man supposed to do any research under these conditions?"

"What are you doing?" asked Atton curiously.

"I'm taking samples from the bedrock here, trying to determine what causes the peculiar formations of crystals in this cave," the Twi'lek explained.  "These caves are filled with kinrath, by the way.  I hear they're pretty dangerous."

"They don't seem to be bothering you," Ludmilla observed.  "Are you seriously studying rocks?"

"Geology is my passion," declared the mercenary seriously.  "Working as a mercenary lets me travel all over the galaxy and research all kinds of strata and cave formations.  This one is particularly interesting, I've never seen crystals like these.  They seem to form spontaneously, and their composition is completely separate from the mineral deposits located in the cave."

"I don't think I've ever heard anything so boring in my life," said Atton quietly.

"Shhh," said Bao-Dur and Mical together.  The mercenary continued talking about silicates and speleothems, and Atton turned to Ludmilla, who shrugged and held out her hand to him.  While Mical and Bao-Dur began discussing the cave with the mercenary guard who wasn't guarding, she wrapped her arms around him, and held him close.

"How much longer can they talk about this stuff?" Atton whispered.

"I have no idea," Ludmilla confessed.  "Do I sound like that when I talk about weapons?"

Atton shook his head.  "You're always interesting to listen to.  Do I sound like that when I talk about cooking?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head.  "Just listening to you talk about a recipe makes me hungry."

"They're talking about rocks.  What's that supposed to do?"

"It makes me want to throw one," Ludmilla grinned.

"Are we boring you, General?"

"Yes, but you knew that.  So, how do you get past the kinrath, Mr. Geologist?"

"Oh, that's a trade secret," said the geologist mercenary.  "I can't tell you."

"Sure you can," Ludmilla grinned.  "We're all friends here.  Right?"

"Oh, that is true.  I suppose I could tell you.  We all have glands taken from the kinrath.  The scent makes the other kinrath think we are one of them."

"Did you just use the Force to change his mind?" Mical whispered in surprise.

Ludmilla smiled.

"I only have one gland on me, though.  I could extract another for you if you need one, but it would take hours."

"Thank you for the offer, but we'll be fine.  The camp is at the rear of the caves, right?"

"Yes," the geologist mercenary confirmed, "head a little to the west.  If you go east, you'll walk into a nest of kinraths and the major crystal formations in the cave."

"Thanks again," Ludmilla waved to the mercenary and started walking away.

"General, I can't help but notice you're heading east."

"What are you planning to do about all the kinraths?" asked Mical.

Ludmilla activated her lightsaber.  "We're on a Force-sensitive planet, and there are crystals.  I could use some more crystals for my lightsaber."

The kinrath were fearsome great insects that hunted by scent and sound.  They also bred quickly, infesting whatever area they nested in, and tended to swarm their foes.  However, they were no match for a Jedi Weapon Master like Ludmilla – especially when her skills were being boosted by Combat Meditation.

Mical stared at Atton after Ludmilla cleared the first nest, and was happily looting the kinrath eggs and crystal clusters seeking more crystals for her lightsaber.  "You know Battle Meditation."

"No, I don't," said Atton, opening his eyes.  "Not yet, anyway.  I'm still learning."  Atton dusted off his hands and trousers where he had been leaning against the wall.  He looked around curiously.  "What is that noise?"

"It sounds like someone singing," said Mical.  He wanted to ask Atton more questions, but knew that this wasn't the time.  He looked around the cavern, and the noise stopped.  "That's odd."

"What is?"  Ludmilla walked over to them, and the noise started again.

"It's coming from that crystal," said Bao-Dur, pointing to a half-hidden cluster beneath a pile of kinrath bodies.

"And it's only doing in when you're nearby," Atton pointed out, and helped Ludmilla clear away the kinrath corpses.  As she got closer to it, the noise, a sweet and balanced tone, got louder.  "It's the same noise you were making yesterday."  Atton looked at her.  "When you were being happy."

"He's right," Mical agreed.  "I think this crystal is attuned to you."

Ludmilla smiled, and gently touched the cluster, and a small chunk of crystal fell into her hands.  It was the perfect shape and size for use in a lightsaber, bright and brilliant, shining softly with a few metallic shards glinting in the center.  Ludmilla held it up to the light, checking the crystal with an experienced eye.  "Okay, now that's pushing it," she said softly.

"What?" asked Atton.

"Nothing."  She carefully put the crystal away in her bag.  "I need a workbench."

Atton looked curiously at her.  "You don't seem pleased."

"I am," she smiled, "But, sometimes, the Force pushes a little hard."  She sighed.  "Let's go find Master Vrook."

They retraced their steps, and came to the mercenary camp.

"What the hell?  Who are you people and how did you get through the kinrath?" snarled a mercenary who appeared to be in charge.  "How did you get past that idiot guard?" she hissed.  "He was looking at the walls again, wasn't he?  I'm going to rip out his eyes."

"You look familiar," said Ludmilla.  "Have we met?"

"Her name is Cedra Toln," said Mical sternly.  "She and her twin sister Ledra are Azkul's lieutenants, and they have been wreaking havoc on the settlers here.  They are slavers of the worst stamp."  Mical looked at the force cage, where Master Vrook was watching the scene with a sour expression on his face.  "And now it appears they have branched out into kidnapping."

"This isn't kidnapping, this is bounty hunting.  We're going to turn in the Jedi and Ledra and I are going to settle down.  Maybe buy a few spice mines."

"Oh dear," said Ludmilla under her breath.

"None of which is any of your business.  Now take your herd of kath hounds and get the hell out of here.  Unless you want to die."

"There's so much wrong with that plan, I don't even know where to start," grinned Atton.  "Were you and your sister really close?"

"What?  What did you just say?"  The mercenary paled, and took a step away from Atton.

"Atton," Ludmilla growled.  "That wasn't necessary."

"What did he mean by that?" she demanded, glaring at Ludmilla.  The mercenary was shaking with rage.

Ludmilla sighed.  The six mercenaries in the room readied their weapons as it became clear that the intruders weren't going to walk away.  She drew her lightsaber and activated it.  "I don't suppose there's any way we could talk this over peacefully?"

"It's a Jedi!" said one of the mercenaries in shock.

"Kill her, quickly, before she tries anything!  Keep the Corellian alive, so we can ask him a few questions," the mercenary lieutenant snarled.

Ludmilla blocked the first two shots the mercenaries fired, bouncing them off her lightsaber to hit the walls beyond.  She was amused but not surprised to see Mical fire at the mercenary woman.  "Yeah, didn't think so," Ludmilla muttered to herself, and charged the largest group, her lightsaber flashing swiftly.  Their blaster fire landed harmlessly on her lightsaber, and she killed the first one before they could switch to their melee weapons.  Behind her, she could hear Atton's blasters and the heavy rifles that Mical and Bao-Dur were carrying.  Another mercenary screamed and fell under her lightsaber, and the last one tried to throw a grenade at her.

Swift as thought, she caught the flying missile and hurled it back, instead of dodging and letting the grenade land behind her where the others were fighting.  The grenade exploded in mid-air, which she had been prepared for but the mercenary hadn't – shrapnel ripped his armor apart, and he staggered back, stunned.  Ludmilla quickly finished him off, then turned to deal with the last mercenary that her crew hadn't killed yet.

With a wild scream, the mercenary lieutenant charged at her, and Ludmilla growled in surprise as their blades crossed and her lightsaber flickered.  The woman had a cortosis blade.

"I've killed people like you before," sneered the mercenary.  "During the wars, when there were enough of you to be interesting."

"You've never killed anyone like me before," said Ludmilla shortly, and deactivated her lightsaber, breaking away from their deadlock.

The woman started in surprise, then moved to attack again.  Ludmilla let her get close, blocked the first strike with her forearm, trusting to her armor.  She followed up with a brutal kick to the mercenary's midsection, then a downward strike at her neck.  The blow landed with a gruesome crunching noise, and the woman crumpled and fell, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"I guess they really were twins," sighed Ludmilla.  "Atton, turn around," she commanded sharply.

"What?  Oh, sure, I'll just … sit here.  Not looking at you."  Atton walked carefully to the entrance of the chamber and sat down, shaking slightly.

Mical followed him.  "Are you all right?"  He looked at Atton.  "You're hyperventilating."

"Yeah, wait – you're a medic?"  Atton pushed Mical away.  "Go help her!"

Mical looked over at Ludmilla in surprise.  She was leaning on Bao-Dur, and pulling a short, wicked-looking knife from her stomach.  Ludmilla coughed slightly, and wiped her mouth, frowning at the blood on her hand.  She muttered something in Mandalorian under her breath.

"That didn't sound like a compliment, General," smiled Bao-Dur.

"Don't make me laugh," she gasped, and spat out a little more blood.

Mical rushed over in horror, and made her sit down on a nearby crate so that he could tend to her wound.  He pulled out a medkit, and started working quickly.  "That blade was poisoned," he said quietly.  "It was a Sith blade, wasn't it?"

Bao-Dur walked to the controls of the force cage and deactivated it.

Master Vrook stepped out of the cage, and walked over to Ludmilla.  "Excuse me, young man," he said sharply.

Mical stepped away, and let the Jedi Master use the Force to draw out the poison and heal the ugly wound.  Ludmilla sighed in relief as some of her pain faded away.

"Thanks," she smiled ruefully at Master Vrook.

"Always rushing into action without thinking of the consequences," snapped Master Vrook.  "Khoonda is in danger, and you just ruined the best chance to avoid a conflict!"

Mical picked up his medkit, and walked over to where Atton was sitting.  He didn't trust himself to speak in front of Master Vrook.  "Here, drink this," he handed a small cup to Atton.  "It's a mild sedative," he said reassuringly.

Atton looked at him in surprise, and drank the medicine without comment.

"Good to see you, too," smiled Ludmilla.  "It's good to know some things never change, and that you've managed to hold to your sunny disposition even in these trying times."

"Is this a joke to you?" Master Vrook glared at her.  "People's lives are at stake."

"I noticed," Ludmilla said, still smiling.  "And your defense of that cage was a remarkable effort to help.  I'm glad I was in time to see it."

Bao-Dur turned away to hide a laugh, and Mical shook his head.

"Do you honestly believe six mercenaries could keep a Jedi master hostage?  You still have no faith in the Jedi Council."

"I don't think you really followed that fight.  I wasn't trying to rescue you.  I wouldn't have let you out of that cage if it hadn't been for the Sith blade."  Ludmilla stood up, towering over the older man.  "If you really want to keep trying to save Dantooine from inside a cage, you're welcome to get back in there."

"When an opponent believes that you are defeated, they no longer consider you a threat – and they relax their guard, become bold.  After I was captured, they talked freely of their plans, enough for me to learn their intentions."

"Oh," said Ludmilla in mocking surprise.  "An actual plan.  One second though, I want to read what the datapad on this woman's body says.  I might learn something of their intentions."  She picked up the datapad.

Master Vrook growled in irritation.  "Right now Dantooine is at a critical moment.  If Khoonda falls, then the Republic will lose control of this system.  Every action has consequences, no matter how small or insignificant they seem – and even the smallest choice has the potential for harm.  The Mandalorian conflict was proof of this.  Intentions mean nothing if a greater tragedy is caused."

"Oh, look, the mercenaries are planning to attack Khoonda and take over the spaceport.  Huh.  Looks like the attack is planned for tomorrow.  If only someone could walk back to the Administrator and let her know of Dantooine's danger!"  Ludmilla glared at him.  "Walking.  Not sitting in a cage.  What are your intentions going to cause, Master Vrook?"

"And you think rushing into battle does any good?"  He gestured contemptuously at the blade on the floor.  "You caused that blade to be here.  Your actions in the Mandalorian conflict led to the Jedi Civil War, to the rise of the Sith in the galaxy, to this woman being here with a poisoned blade and ready to kill you.  These are the echoes of your actions; these are the results of your choices."

Ludmilla snarled, trying to get through the blinders that he wore.  "And you were sitting in a force cage.  The entire time.  How was that supposed to help?  Who was that supposed to help?  Inaction is a choice, just as much as fighting is."

"We have all seen and lived through the results of your choices.  We will never know what would have happened if you had trusted to the wisdom of the Council."

"Well, I can tell you what's going to happen to Khoonda if you sit around and wait," Ludmilla retorted.  "Or did you have an actual plan?"

Master Vrook frowned, and drew back slightly, as if struck.

Ludmilla smiled, and waited.

"I cannot deny that it seems that the Force has brought you here for a reason," he said reluctantly.

Bao-Dur laughed openly, then pretended it was a cough and walked over to join Mical and Atton at the entrance.

"Your companions seem to have the same level of respect for the Jedi Council that you do," said Master Vrook sharply.  "Khoonda is in great danger.  It seems that the mercenaries here have gotten secret backing, probably from the Exchange.  No doubt they plan to turn Dantooine into a center for their illicit activities."

"Really?" said Ludmilla.  "I'll have to ask Goto about that.  He didn't mention it."

"What?

"Nothing," she grinned.  "Never mind."

"I'm going to try and reach Administrator Adare, and start coordinating the station's defenses."

"Yeah, she was pretty – worried about you," Ludmilla coughed delicately.

"How dare you!" Master Vrook raged.  "Do not seek to impose your own shameless nature on people who still respect the code of the Jedi."

"I'm just saying, you're not the only one who respects Jedi, if you know what I mean," Ludmilla snickered.  "Go on, before you burst a blood vessel or something.  I'll save your precious Khoonda, and your pretty – worried Administrator."

Master Vrook didn't bother to answer her, and walked out of the cave without another word.

Mical knelt down and started putting his things away in his pack so that Master Vrook wouldn't notice him.  When the outraged Jedi Master was finally gone, he helped Atton to his feet as Ludmilla rushed over.

"Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

Atton smiled at her.  "I'm fine, just a little woozy from whatever Mical gave me.  I can still cook though!"

Ludmilla laughed joyously, and let Atton lean on her, gently kissing his cheek.

"That guy is a piece of work," Atton laughed.  "I was going to tell Mical to give him a dose of whatever he gave me, and see if it made him calm down."  Atton snuggled closer to her, calmed and happy to be the center of attention.

"The only thing that would make Master Vrook calm down would be a bat to the back of the head," Mical snapped.

Atton looked at him in surprise, and Ludmilla laughed again.

"I apologize," said Mical with a sigh.  "He gets on my nerves."

Atton tried standing on his own, as an experiment, and stumbled slightly.  Mical caught him before he fell, and helped him stand properly.  "Oh, thanks."

Ludmilla smiled, and walked over to search the bodies for any other datapads or useable equipment.  Bao-Dur joined her, also grinning in quiet amusement.


	31. Blade of the Guardian

Ludmilla walked back into the Khoonda station to meet with the Administrator and see if Vrook had actually done anything.  The Ebon Hawk had returned, and the team had completed their mission successfully.  The entire crew had gathered at the station, to help plan for the defense of Dantooine and the settlers.

"Welcome back," smiled the Administrator.  "Master Vrook has explained that his 'rescue' has somewhat complicated the situation.  I can't say I anticipated that, but I'm sure that with two Jedi to help us, we'll be able to win this battle."

Master Vrook frowned, and Ludmilla knew he was choking back an outraged declaration that Ludmilla was no longer a Jedi.  Ludmilla held back a smile, and nodded to Administrator Adare.

"But I do thank you for finding him, regardless," said the Administrator warmly, and Ludmilla smiled at her in return, pointedly not looking at Master Vrook to see his reaction.  "I have no idea how the mercenaries became so organized," she said in confusion.  "It's as if their new leader turned them into battle hardened veterans overnight."

"Azkul is new?" Ludmilla asked.  "When did he get here?"

"A few months ago," Vrook answered.  "He's been spending money like water.  He's most likely working with the Exchange."

"He is not working with the Exchange," said Goto sharply.  "His actions are not authorized by any Exchange overseers in this sector."

"What is that?" demanded Vrook.

"An Exchange overseer," said Ludmilla dryly.  "Don't worry, he's on the side of the Republic.  You'd like him, actually.  He tried to lock me up, too."

Goto glared at her.  "And I daily regret my failure to succeed."

"Moving on," grinned Ludmilla, "does anyone know how Azkul got here?"

"Actually, I do," said the Administrator.  "He had been a Republic officer before being discharged from Harbinger as a result of his injuries."

"The Harbinger," Ludmilla repeated, and suddenly remembered that Azkul was missing an eye.  The other eye-socket was nothing more than a white shell.  "Well, that changes things."

"Wait, wasn't the Harbinger that ship that the Sith Lord – " said Atton.  "Oh, bantha poodoo."

"Sith?" said Vrook in surprise.  "Are you serious?"

Ludmilla nodded.  "I guess I'll have to take this seriously," she smiled.  "What are your defenses like, Administrator?"

"Against the Sith?  I have no idea," she confessed.  "Our militia is meant for peace-keeping, they aren't prepared for a full-scale battle."

"Don't worry about that," Ludmilla smiled.  "We have a few friends who can help stiffen their backbones."

The Mandalore grinned.  "Let me go make sure everyone has their armor in good condition.  I should have known there was a reason they hitched a ride back with us instead of just going straight to Dxun."  He left to go check on the Mandalorians he had picked up on Nar Shadaa.

The Administrator looked confused, but went on.  "We also have some perimeter turrets but we've never gotten them online.  I'm sure that alone could make a significant difference."

"On it, General."  Bao-Dur turned and left the station to go see to the station's shields and defenses.

"Why did he call you general?" asked one of the settlers that had been in the room, listening to their discussion.

Ludmilla turned.  "General Ludmilla Sîvoš of the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic Army."  She smiled again, knowing that it gave them confidence.

"General Sîvoš?  I fought under you at Taris!"  One of the other settlers stepped forward, and Ludmilla shook his hand in welcome.  "I thought you were dead, General!  I never expected to see you again."  He grinned at her.  "And I didn't recognize you without all that mud on your face.  Compared to that fight, this should be a piece of cake!"  The settler turned to the Administrator.  "Are you recruiting, ma'am?  I'll gladly sign up to fight under General Sîvoš again, and so will some of my other mates."  The former soldier grinned at Ludmilla, "A lot of the Third retired here after the last battle."

Ludmilla couldn't help it and smiled at Master Vrook.  "You know what they say.  Every action has consequences, no matter how small or insignificant they seem.  Welcome aboard."  She clapped the former soldier on the back.  "If the militia can't outfit all of you, I probably have some spare weapons on my ship."  She looked at the Administrator again, while the buzz from the assembled settlers settled down now that they realized that there was a chance that they would all survive.

"We've also placed some mines on the two main approaches to the station, but our demolitions expert – well, he isn't."

"Oooh, mines," grinned Mira.  "That's me, boss.  I'll go check it out."  Mira picked up her tools and left the station.  "Tell my boys I'll be right back."

The Administrator just stared at Ludmilla.  "Is this going to keep happening?"

Ludmilla laughed.  "Probably.  What else do you have for me?  I still have crew left."

"Well, some of the men were injured, but our medical droid broke down.  We also have a few defense droids, but no one here knows how to fix them."

Goto bounced impatiently.  "Foolish woman, why didn't you mention this earlier?  Where are these droids located?"

"I can take care of the wounded men," Mical offered.

Ludmilla nodded to Mical, and the Administrator sent one of the militia to show Goto where the broken droids were located, and T3 buzzed along after them.

Unnoticed, Kreia led Atton and Visas out of the room.

"I guess that's everyone on my side," Ludmilla said cheerily.

"While you bolster Khoonda's defenses, I will go to the mercenary camp and do what I can to delay their attack," said Master Vrook.  "Keep in mind that if Captain Zherron and Administrator Adare are killed, the settlers will lose their spirit."

"The Administrator will be under guard here when the attack starts," said Zherron.  "So the mercenaries will have to get through all our defenses and me to get to her."

Ludmilla nodded.  "Understood.  Is there a workbench here?  I need to fix something on my lightsaber."

"Of course, follow me."  Zherron led her away, and Master Vrook left the station, pausing only briefly to say goodbye to the Administrator.

"Your duty is simple, seer.  Guard the boy.  Let nothing disturb him."

Visas nodded grimly.

"Now, boy, are you ready?" Kreia asked.

Atton nodded nervously.

"Focus," she said sharply.  "This is no simple combat now.  You must sense the entire battle as it unfolds.  You must open yourself to it," she urged.  She could feel Atton trying to relax, to let himself be wrapped in the Force that he didn't completely trust.  Kreia sighed in frustration, trying to think of how to help him sense the wholeness of the Force without losing his mind.  "It is not a simple thread anymore, boy.  You must pick up all the pieces and control them all."  Suddenly she smiled.  "Like a song, boy.  Like the music of the crystal, or those battle songs that she likes to sing.  You are not part of the battle, and yet you will be.  You will be the most important part of it."

Visas, with her Force sight, could see it working, and made a small noise of surprise.

"Well done, boy.  Very well done indeed," smiled Kreia, and rose slowly.  "Guard him, seer.  Guard him with your life."  Kreia swept out of the small room, and stopped.  There was a Mandalorian standing there, one of the Mandalore's lieutenants.  "What are you doing?"

"The Mandalore commanded me to guard this room."

Kreia smiled.  "Very well.  If a dar'Jetii shows up, let the seer handle it.  Everything else will be no match for you."

The Mandalorian nodded, and Kreia continued on her way.  She found Ludmilla just outside the station, finishing a rousing speech to the militia, the newly recruited soldiers, and the Mandalorians who were helping to defend Dantooine.

"We are fighting here for the future, for the children that will grow up on this world!  We stand here so that they will be safe!  We draw our weapons so that we can go home tonight to the ones we love!  Together, we fight!  For Dantooine!"

They all cheered wildly, buoyed by her masterful confidence and stirring words.

"They're here!" shouted one of the outposts, and a series of explosions and anguished screams showed that Mira had not wasted her time with the mines.

Ludmilla started shouting orders, sending her command in orderly squads to defend the various points of the station's perimeter.  The turrets whirred to life, and started shooting down the attackers.

"What?  I thought you said those turrets were disabled!" Azkul shouted to one of his mercenaries.  "It's that damn Jedi!  She's to blame!"

There were many more mercenaries than she had expected, and Azkul sacrificed them freely to get across the bridges to the station.  He also had a complement of battle droids, but they malfunctioned and ended up broken down on the bridges, cutting off half his force until the mercenaries ended up toppling the battle droids over the side into the water so that they could get past.

"Where did they all come from?" Canderous shouted as she commanded the defenders to fall back into the station, but Ludmilla could only shake her head.  She didn't know, and it bothered her.

"General!  They've got a gunship!"

The turrets weren't strong or fast enough to deal with the gunship, but the station's shields held.

Ludmilla snarled as the gunship swept away and prepared for another strafing run.  She hadn't drawn her lightsaber yet, and took a running jump, bouncing on the walls until she was standing on the top of the station.  "Come out and fight!" she shouted in challenge.

The gunship swerved, and instead of firing, the door opened and the pilot stepped out.  He was a Human, but his face was partially covered with a Sith mask, and all she could see were evil yellow eyes and long black hair.  The Sith drew his lightsaber, a fiery red blade, and leapt from the gunship, careless of where it would crash once he left.

With a defiant shout, Ludmilla jumped, drawing her lightsaber at the same time, and they met in mid-air, their blades clashing.  She had upgraded her lightsaber again, with the crystal that she had found in the kinrath cave.  Her blade once again glowed brilliant silver, with just a hint of blue in the center.

"You've been well taught," she shouted to him as they struck at each other, ignoring the fact that they were falling to the ground.

"You're not the only Weapon Master in the galaxy, Exile," he snarled, and nearly broke through her guard with a swift strike, but she twisted away just in time.

Ludmilla couldn't place the voice – it was too transfigured by the mask, and she wasn't sure whether she even knew the man she was fighting or not.  She used the Force to land carefully on the ground, with her lightsaber at the ready.  Her opponent did the same, but landed less gracefully, and she launched herself at him before he could recover, forcing him to shift to a defensive form.

As she drove him back, she took a split second to see what had happened to the falling gunship, and smiled to see that Kreia was setting it down gently next to the Ebon Hawk, and that Bao-Dur was running to it with T3 following him, while the Mandalorians were providing covering fire and keeping the attackers from reclaiming their ship.  The surviving militia had retreated to the station, bringing in the wounded.  Satisfied, she focused again on the combat with the Sith.

He was good, but she was better.  Her lightsaber sank beneath his guard, and she ripped open his chest, leaving a savage wound from hip to shoulder.  He staggered back, but didn't fall.  Instead he reached out his arm, and to her horror, drained the life of the nearest Mandalorian warrior.  The wound closed, and she heard his evil laugh.

"You won't kill me that way, Exile."

"You bastard!" she roared, and attacked furiously.  She had already noted that he was wearing heavy Sith battle armor under his robes.  He didn't realize where he was being driven, and she hit him again with her lightsaber, cutting open one arm.

He laughed cruelly.  "Don't you care about the lives of your men, Exile?"  The Sith reached out again, but she was ready this time, and tossed her lightsaber to her other hand.

"There are more weapons than lightsabers, dar'Jetii," she snarled, and threw a savage punch that cracked his mask, and he staggered backwards.  He fumbled, and fell over the precipice into the river below.  "But the most important one is still the one between your ears."  She watched for a second, and saw that he was being swept away by the swift moving water.  He struggled to remove his armor, and she saw that he had already lost his lightsaber.  She smiled to herself.  He would probably survive and return to fight another day, after his Master's wrath had burned itself out for his miserable failure.  At any rate, she was satisfied that he wouldn't be fighting her anymore today, as he was already at the end of the river.

His shocked scream as he went over the waterfall made her laugh out loud.  She concentrated once more on the water below, and saw his lightsaber dangling on a rock in the churning white water below, and summoned it to her.  She pocketed the lightsaber with a happy smile and turned back to the station.

The battle was mostly over.  Azkul had been killed by the droids under Goto's control, and Bao-Dur in the gunship had made the overwhelming numbers of the attackers meaningless.  The remaining mercenaries were easily dealt with, and the defenders cheered wildly as she approached.

She saw Vrook, watching her calmly without a frown for once, and laughed to herself that she had finally won a small sign of approval from the implacable Master.  Captain Zherron ran up to her, shook her hand, and started reporting to her as if she was his superior officer.  She didn't cut him off, and instead let herself be swept away into the aftermath of the battle – repairing, restoring, rebuilding.

The Mandalore came up to her while she was standing with Vrook and Zherron, discussing plans for the future.  "The old woman ordered me to tell you that she took Visas and Atton back to the ship, and the Republic spy went with them," he said in Mandalorian.  "I'm pretty sure she's dodging Pickleface there."

Ludmilla forced herself not to laugh.  "Thank you for telling me, Mandalore.  Oh," she said gently, "I'm very sorry about what happened to your warrior."

Mandalore shook his head.  "Don't be, she died well and bravely.  We will sing for her tonight."

She put her hand on his shoulder.  "I'll be there," she promised.  "We all will."

The Administrator walked up to her, and held out her hands.  "Thank you, thank you so much!  You can be sure that Dantooine will always remember how the Jedi came to their defense again."

Ludmilla couldn't resist looking to see how Vrook reacted, and laughed lightly to see that he was rolling his eyes.  "You're welcome, Administrator Adere.  It was my honor to help."

"We are a humble community, and our resources are small, but please, take this," she held out a credit chit to Ludmilla.  "Your efforts should not go unrewarded."

"Keep your credits for rebuilding," said Ludmilla.  "If you want to show that you appreciate the help you were given, come to the Mandalorian camp tonight, and join them in honoring those who died saving you."

The Administrator smiled nervously at the thought of the former enemies of the Republic, but it was clear that these Mandalorians were different.  "You are right.  We … we will be there."  She smiled politely at the Mandalore, "Thank you for your help.  Thank you all."


	32. Charms and Tokens, pt.7

"Is the world supposed to be spinning like that?" asked Atton vaguely.

"No, boy, it is not.  Try to rest," Kreia urged.

"I don't want to rest," he protested.  "I'm not tired.  I want to do … something."

Kreia frowned.  She couldn't put him to sleep, not in this state, but Ludmilla was still talking to Master Vrook, and she couldn't risk letting the Jedi Councilor get a glimpse of Atton.

"I'm not tired," Atton insisted.  "I just want the world to stop … doing … that.  Is this going to happen every time?"

"No," Kreia sighed.  "You will learn to control it better as time goes on.  You are too tense," she said gently.  "Try to relax, and rest.  You will feel better."

"This is actually kind of fun," Atton grinned.  "I just wish I had something to play with," he mused.  "A skwirret or something."

"The dog is busy meddling with the ship's stores, or I would have him sit with you," muttered Kreia.

"Dog?"

"Loyal.  Stupid.  Always pleased to see his Master no matter how long he has to wait."

Atton burst into cruel, dark laughter at her joke.  "I like that!"  He shifted slightly, unable to lie still.  "Where did Visas go?"

"She is hiding in the Mandalore's tent."

"Oh, so she gets to listen to the singing while I'm stuck here," said Atton quietly.  "I'll get her for that."

"Restrain yourself!" said Kreia sharply.

Atton looked at her with amusement.  "Did I frighten you?  I'm sorry."

"You need to learn the right kind of self-control, boy."

Atton smiled, sweet and dark.  "I'll be good if you tell me to," he offered.

Kreia sighed.  "It would be more meaningful if you behaved properly of your own volition."

"So you're not going to tell me to be good?"

Kreia shook her head.

Atton laughed, a rich, thrilling sound.  "Then I'm not going to be good."  He stretched, trying to find a comfortable position, knowing that the problem was in his mind rather than in his body.  "You know, if you want that Jedi Master out of the way, I could get rid of him for you.  He's old, and he likes that Administrator but won't admit it.  She'd make perfect bait.  She wouldn't even know what really happened.  We could just tell her he had to leave Dantooine for something.  There are plenty of places in that cave where we could hide a body."

Kreia smiled gently.  "You're being difficult on purpose, boy.  Not that I doubt your skill," she laughed.   "But you're supposed to be following the Exile, not your own inclinations.  Rest, boy."

"You think it's a good idea," he said softly.  "But no, she probably wouldn't approve, would she?"  He sighed, and moved restlessly in the bed again.  "Where is Mical anyway?"

"The dog has settled into the medbay.  He is taking stock of our supplies.  He wants to make sure we have everything we need for our adventures."

Atton blinked.  "I have to get up."

"You will be ill, boy," said Kreia.  "But perhaps that would be easier for you to deal with.  Allow me a moment to pretend I don't know your plans."  Kreia rose, graceful and slow as always, and swept out of the room, leaving Atton lying alone in the half-darkness of the cargo hold.

Atton sighed, and tossed and turned for a few minutes before he stood up.  The world was doing strange things, and he was seeing things that weren't really there, shapes and shadows and glimpses of light.  The room was spinning oddly, not as if he were drunk, more like he had been spinning around for too long.  He walked carefully to the garage, and peeked down the exit ramp.  The Mandalorians and the settlers were drinking and singing, celebrating life and death with riotous joy.

Somewhere out there, beyond what he could see, Ludmilla was deep in conversation with the acerbic Master Vrook and wishing that she were with Atton instead.  He could feel it from her, a soft mental caress, a gentle hint of loving desire.  He smiled, but he couldn't return the thought.  Another wave of darkness washed over him, insane jealousy that she would waste her time talking to some wrinkled, nasty old man instead of coming back to the ship to take care of him.

Atton put his hands to his head, and sank to the floor, gasping for breath.

"What are you doing?  Are you all right?"  Mical rushed over, and lifted Atton back to his feet.  "You're not all right, what are you doing out of bed?"

Atton didn't answer, and let Mical lead him away.  He only took a few steps before Mical gave in, and lifted him in his arms.  Atton smiled to himself, and closed his eyes.

"Kreia said you were asleep," Mical said softly.  "What are you up to, Atton?"

"I just wanted to see what was going on," said Atton weakly.  "I wasn't going to go outside.  You can put me down."

Mical ignored him.  He walked into the cargo hold, and laid Atton down on the bed again.  "Would you like me to sit with you for a bit?  Or should I ask Kreia to come back?"

"You don't have to sit with me," said Atton.  "I'm just going to lie here and watch the world spin.  It's pretty cool.  How much longer do you think they'll be talking?"

"Master Vrook can go on for quite some time, I'm afraid."  Mical laid a gentle hand on Atton's forehead.  "You're a bit warm."

"Really?  I feel cold.  Well, not really.  I don't know," Atton fidgeted slightly.

Mical leaned over and undid the top buttons on Atton's shirt.  "Silk," he said in surprise, and Atton laughed softly.  Mical frowned at himself, and continued trying to make Atton comfortable.  He nearly jumped out of his skin at the soft touch on his arm.  "Atton," he said sharply.  "What are you – "

The rest of the sentence was lost forever against Atton's lips, warm and incredibly soft on his, yielding and persuasive beyond anything Mical had ever imagined.  Atton ran one hand through Mical's soft hair, and the other over his broad shoulders, tracing the outline of his muscles.  He shifted slightly, and let Mical's hand fall between his legs.  Atton moaned in pleasure at Mical's touch, and he could feel Mical's heartbeat speed up in response.

"No, no, M'adouin, not like this," Mical whispered, barely coherent, between kisses as he tried to pull away from Atton.  "Not this way."

"What did you call me?" Atton asked in confusion, and let Mical slip away.

Mical stood up, and straightened himself before he answered, trying to recover his self-control.

"What did you call me?" Atton repeated.

"Er, I do apologize, I didn't mean to just blurt that out," Mical blushed.  "It's just a term of endearment."  Mical sat down again, and tried to think of something else.  "I shouldn't have said it."

"Then why did you?"

"Because you're the kind of person who inspires love at first sight," Mical sighed.  "Even if you're already taken."  He sat down, carefully not touching Atton.

"She'll share, if you will," grinned Atton.  "Say it again."

"Atton, I really don't think this is proper, not at all," Mical tried to explain.  He looked over at Atton, and quickly looked away.  "Stop that," he said, trying to be stern and commanding.  "Stop looking at me like that."

"Say it again," Atton insisted.  "Please?" he pleaded, his voice sweet and innocent, in complete contrast to the wickedly wanton look in his eyes.

"M'adouin, please lie down and try to get some rest," Mical said softly.  "We can discuss this more later.  Right now you need to get some rest."

Atton sank back into the pillows, his eyes still on Mical.  "I bet I could rest better if you lay down next to me," said Atton sweetly.

"You'll be fine, M'adouin," said Mical wearily.  "I'm going to sit right here."

"But there aren't enough pillows," Atton pointed out softly, slightly mocking.  "Usually Ludmilla is here."

Mical closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on something else.

"I'll be good, I promise."

"I don't believe that for a second," said Mical with a sigh.  "Unless you're using 'good' a different way than I am."

Atton smiled.  "Well, maybe you should specify what you mean," he suggested.

"If I kiss you one more time, M'adouin, will you be still and get some rest?"

Atton watched him hungrily for a moment.  "Two more times."

"Very well," Mical leaned over and drew Atton into his arms.  "Two more times," he said hoarsely, and bent his head down to the soft, irresistible lips again.  He could feel Atton smile into the kiss, and groaned inwardly at what he thought was his weakness.

Atton took Mical's hand, and slid the older man's hand between his legs again, but this time the fastenings of his pants were already undone, and Mical groaned at the feel of Atton's warm hardness in his hand.  Atton made a soft noise of need, of pleasure, and pressed himself into Mical's hand and against Mical's lips.  "Please," he whispered desperately against Mical's skin, kissing him again and again, burying his hands in Mical's hair.  "Please."

Mical's hand tightened over him, stroked his hardness, drawing more noises of sweet wildness from Atton.  Atton thrust passionately into the strong yet tender grip of Mical's hand, crying out helplessly as Mical's skilled touch left him shaking, spilling warm wetness all over the other man's hand.

Mical kissed Atton gently as he fell limply in his arms, and lowered him back to the pillows, then kissed him again, claiming his lips as he let his hand slide lower, gently exploring and curious.  Atton gasped in surprise, but didn't pull away from Mical's questing fingers.  Mical groaned with barely subdued passion as he felt Atton's body yielding to him, and he slid a finger inside Atton, then another, to a chorus of passionate and wonderfully enticing noises from Atton.  He kissed Atton's lips again, then his neck, shifting himself slightly so that he could work another finger into Atton's body.

Atton threw back his head and screamed uncontrollably, as his body flooded into an unexpected orgasm – the physical sensation, the maddening desire, the sudden realization that Mical wanted him as he wanted to be taken – all of it combined caused something inside him to snap, and his body went wild, writhing helplessly on Mical's fingers.

Mical watched in shock and surprise as Atton's eyes fluttered, then Atton's entire body went completely limp.  "Atton?  M'adouin?"  Atton didn't move at all, just a slight movement of his chest to show that he was breathing.  "Good heavens," Mical exclaimed as he realized that Atton had fainted.  He carefully pulled Atton's legs apart a little so that he could pull his fingers out.  Mical looked at Atton again, and bent over to kiss him again while he lay still, and before he could stop himself, placed a series of short, wild kisses between Atton's legs.  "No, no, I mustn't, this isn't right," he chided himself, panting, and settled for licking his hand clean after he covered Atton with one of the many blankets on the little love nest.

Mical sat back in the chair, and watched Atton sleep.  "By the Celestials, what am I doing?" he groaned.  "Madness," he murmured to himself, and took one of Atton's hands in his, lifted it to his lips and covered it with desperate kisses.  "Utter madness."


	33. Hands of the Angel

"Tell me about these new Sith.  Where did they come from, and why doesn't anyone know who they are?"

"You're just going to be angry again," grumbled Master Vrook.  "Revan and Malak went into the Unknown Regions near the end of the Mandalorian conflicts.  After they returned, we started seeing unusually powerful Sith here and there.  Shadowy figures, more influence than action.  Then came the final battles of the Mandalorian wars."  He sighed.  "What made you pick Malachor V?"

Ludmilla shrugged.  "It was a world that the Mandalorians feared, as much as Mandalorians fear anything.  It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Who picked it?" Vrook asked again.  "Revan?  Or you?"

Ludmilla considered.  "Well, both of us, I think.  I don't really remember.  Why?"

"I always wondered whether it was a genuine accident, or whether it had been a carefully orchestrated maneuver on the part of these mysterious Sith."

"What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently.

"Some of the worlds that were attacked at the end of the wars were planets that the Jedi Council had a special interest in."

She waited, but Vrook didn't elaborate.  "Why?" she asked finally.  "What was so special to the Council about a miserable rock like Malachor V?"

"It was once a Sith world," said Vrook slowly.  "Like Korriban.  After the war with Exar Kun, the Council concealed the nature of these worlds from the general populace.  As you said, it was a miserable rock.  No one in their right minds would go there."

"Keep talking," she said grimly.

"We removed the most dangerous Sith artifacts and concealed them in the great libraries.  But not all of the artifacts were things that we could – or wanted to – remove.  Some of them were more useful where they were."

"Such as..." she prompted.

"We discovered that the Sith had mastered the art of creating prisons for Force users."

"What?"

"The worlds were abandoned and inhospitable.  Even if the prisoners had escaped, there would have been nowhere for them to go, until they were recaptured and confined again."

"And that's where you wanted to put me?" she asked, trying to restrain her anger.

"No," said Vrook, shaking his head.  "Even at your worst, you did not have the level of darkness inside you that would have warranted such treatment.  No, the Sith prisons were reserved for the worst of the worst.  People who could never have returned to the Light."

"Anyone can return to the Light, if you're willing to give them a chance."

"I know what you believe," Vrook gave her a rare smile, "but that simply isn't true.  Some beings become so steeped in the Dark that there is no room left inside them for Light.  It happens."  Ludmilla shook her head, but he ignored her and went on.  "For such beings, imprisonment was the most merciful option available to us.  They remained in their prisons, carefully tended to by droids, regularly checked on by a group of Masters.  Until the wars.  Until the endless orbital bombardments literally shattered the walls of their Force prisons, allowing some of the most heinous, unrepentant malefactors in the galaxy to escape.  And yet, they did not make their presence known.  Something – someone – was holding them back.  Not until after Revan had defeated Malak, and the Sith should have been left without a leader did they strike.  But even then, they struck from the shadows, guided by some unknown hand.  Wherever we gathered, they were there.  They knew our every move, and we were powerless against them.  They stole the Sith artifacts that we had so carefully concealed, as well as massive amounts of Jedi relics and texts.  And just as Revan had, they took the weakest Jedi and broke them to the Dark Side."

"Who?" Ludmilla demanded.  "You must have some idea of who their leaders were."

"No," said Vrook sadly.  "All we knew was that there was a triumvirate at the head of the Shadow Sith.  We heard rumors but we never came in contact with the actual Sith Lords – at least, not in a way that left any survivors."

"A triumvirate?" said Ludmilla in confusion.  "But – I've only heard of two of them.  Darth Sion and Darth Nihlus.  There's a third?"

Vrook nodded.  "The third is the leader, completely unseen and unknown, the true leader of the Sith.  Sion was imprisoned after the war with Exar Kun.  He is a Sith Marauder, one of the best lightsaber duelists in the galaxy."  Ludmilla made an impatient noise, but let him continue.  "Nihlus – no one knows who he was before.  He might have been one of the prisoners from Malachor V, or from Jebble."

"Or he might have been one of the Jedi from Revan's attack force at Malachor V," said Ludmilla softly.

Vrook grunted.  "That's possible."  He looked at her curiously, but didn't comment.  "As I said, we know very little about them, beyond rumors and the words of people about to die.  What we do know is that they were both students of someone even greater, someone who knew the Jedi Order intimately.  But who that person is, we do not know."  He looked at her again.

"You thought it was me, didn't you?"

Vrook laughed.  "You're genuinely insulted by that, aren't you?  Of course the Council thought it was you!  Everyone who went to Malachor V fell to the Dark Side, and became a Dark Jedi, or worse.  You were strong enough to become a Sith Lord, and you despised the Jedi Council.  You were a masterful strategist, and you knew the weaknesses of the Republic.  You were a good teacher, and could have raised two Sith students to assist you."

"I did not fall to the Dark Side," she said firmly.  "I never have, and I never will."

"So sure of yourself," he mused.  "But the strongest argument against you being the Sith Lord is the secrecy involved.  You're just not subtle.  You never were."

Ludmilla flushed angrily.  "Why should I be?"

"Indeed," Master Vrook agreed.  "Why should you be?  If you wanted to be a Sith Lord, all you would have to do is unfurl your banner, and millions would follow you.  You have no need for secrecy.  It doesn't suit you."

"I don't want it to, I don't want to be a Sith Lord."

"Of course not, they don't make peri tales about Sith.  You want to be a hero, and have songs written about you.  You want to defeat dragons and save princes in distress."

Ludmilla blushed.

"Some people on the Council thought it was you.  I never did.  I know a little too much about you," said Vrook dryly.  "If you were going to become a Sith, that's not the kind that you would be."

"Thanks for that."

"Which leaves us with the greatest mystery of all," said Vrook seriously.

"Who is the true Sith Lord?"

"No," Vrook said impatiently.  "In the end, we will learn the answer to that question no matter what we do.  No, the true mystery is still you."

"What?"

"Everyone who fought at Malachor V, every Jedi who was in the orbit of that planet during the battle, every single one fell to the Dark Side.  Except you."

Ludmilla stared at him.

"Great battlegrounds, old tragedies, places of suffering – they all leave their mark on the Force.  The stronger the emotion, the larger the wound.  The cries of the fallen echo through the Force so strongly that centering oneself becomes almost impossible.  Such places – such worlds – they are ideal for a Jedi to hide from another Force user.  That was part of why I returned to Dantooine when Kavar suggested that we separate and conceal ourselves.  But what happened to you?  You returned, shrouded in darkness and yet untouched by it.  You came to face us, but was it obedience to the Rule or open defiance?  You came to defend your actions, not to apologize for them.  And you came to us wounded and damaged beyond recognition."

"And you cut me off from the Force!" she hissed.  "You left me helpless and threw me out of the Order!"

"No," said Vrook firmly.  "The Council did not cut you off from the Force.  Accuse us as you will, but it will not change the truth.  We hoped that your time in exile would bring you peace, that in reflection you would come to understand what had happened, what you had done.  I see that it has not."

"And this is why I can't stand Consulars.  Just tell me what I want to know!  If you didn't cut me off from the Force, then who did?"

Vrook sighed impatiently.  "Cutting someone off from the Force is a difficult and time-consuming process, a punishment reserved for a specific type of malefactor.  You were not such a one.  We had the power, yes, but we did not inflict such a loss upon you.  I cannot answer your question any more than that."  He looked at her sternly.  "Perhaps it is a question you should seek the answer to on your own."

"Can't stand you," she muttered under her breath.  "Okay, then, if you won't answer that, then tell me how it came back."

"That is another question I cannot answer.  I feel nothing different from you than I did when you stood before us in the Council all those years ago."

Ludmilla stared at him in disbelief.  "What?  But you saw me.  You know I can use the Force again."

Vrook shrugged.  "It is possible that returning to known space, journeying with companions again, has caused the Force within you to re-awaken.  Your...  connections to others were a source of much debate and concern within the Council."

"I like people.  What's so strange about that?"

"We were concerned because you like them too much.  You get too close to people, in a way that Jedi never should.  You form bonds outside of the strict role of Master and Student."

"Oh, that," she said dismissively.  "Find me where the Rule says not to fall in love, and I'll think about listening to you."

"Defiant as always," he growled.  "Still, that is all the answer that I can give you."

"Great.  Two more questions, and then I'll be done, I promise," she grinned.  "Have you ever heard of a Force bond where the users share each pain with each other, in addition to everything else?"

"What?  No, such a bond would be unnatural.  If it were even possible, it would require the highest amount of ability with the Force on both sides, to keep the bonded pair from going insane."

"Right," Ludmilla agreed.  "I sort of guessed that.  Last question: how were you planning to contact the other members of the Council, when it came time for you to gather again?  Kavar, Ell, Vash – you all scattered, and you were all that remained of the Council.  Did you have some kind of plan?"

Vrook shook his head.  "No, and I admit was a great risk.  But Kavar's plan was the best we had.  After the deaths of the other Council members on Katarr, we couldn't risk another incident like that.  We had to trust in the Force.  It was all we had left."  He looked grudgingly at her.  "It seems to have worked.  How did you know where to find me?  And how did you know we were hidden?"

Ludmilla sighed.  "I've already found Master Ell, and talked to Master Kavar briefly."  She felt miserable and tired, suddenly.  "Thank you for answering my questions, Master Vrook."

"Hmph, so I'm Master again, am I?"  Vrook snorted.  "This is your chance to save the galaxy and be the hero you always dreamed of being, Ludmilla.  Don't fail."

"I won't," she said calmly.  "But defeating the dragon is never as easy as the stories make it sound."  She thought about kicking a rock, but decided against it.  "Not as much fun, either."

 

She leaned against the door of the cargo hold and looked over the scene again.  Atton lay peacefully, his handsome, narrow face sweet and serene in his sleep, his dark hair falling over one eye, his perfectly curved lips soft and red from kisses, one slender, elegant hand intertwined with Mical's large, strong, and shapely hand.  Mical was sprawled in the chair, his large frame inelegant yet attractive, strong rather than graceful, his face plain yet alluring, the determined set of his face softened by a slight smile on his lips.

Mical stirred, probably sensing her presence in his sleep, and woke slowly.  His eyes fell first on Atton, unmistakably adoring, then he shook his head guiltily, and looked around the room.  "Oh!"  He stood up, and reluctantly let go of Atton's hand.  "I didn't realize you were back."

Ludmilla laughed sweetly.  "Oh, don't get up on my account."  She looked at Atton.  "You got him to sleep.  Good," she walked over and kissed his forehead gently.  Atton stirred slightly, tilting his head towards her lips, but didn't wake up.  "He needed the rest."  She grinned at Mical, who was blushing in confusion.  "He gets so tense."  She kissed him again, and Atton made a small, happy noise in his sleep.

"I was just sitting with him," said Mical lamely.  "I can go, if you're going to stay here."

"Why would you leave?" she asked, and pulled off her armor, tossing it aside.  "There's room.  Mostly."  She looked critically at the little nest.  "Well, I could add a little more space.  And more pillows.  There are never enough pillows."

"Yes, pillows," said Mical, slightly stunned and blushing furiously at her semi-nudity.  "I can't – I mean – " he sighed in frustration.  "I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet.  This isn't right, not really."

Ludmilla smiled in understanding.  "Well, if you feel it's not right, then it isn't.  So long as you're not holding yourself back because of me."

"No, no," Mical shook his head.  "Not at all.  It's just – something else."

She grinned.  "That's all right, then.  Stay here a second, I'll be right back."  She picked up her clothes, and ran out of the room in her underwear.  "Just dropping this off in the laundering unit!"

Mical watched her run off, speechless.  He looked at Atton again, then at the half-closed door, and bent over Atton to give him a quick kiss.  But instead of a quick kiss, he felt a pair of soft hands on his face, in his hair, holding him close as he was drawn into a fiery embrace, and he pulled Atton closer, hungry for his sweet, willing softness.  He ran his hands through Atton's hair, heard Atton make a soft whimper of protest.  "M'adouin?  What's wrong?"

"Can't breathe!"  Atton gasped, laughing softly.  "You do breathe, right, Mical?"

Mical laughed nervously, and pulled away.  "Yes, I breathe.  I'm sorry.  You have that effect on me."

Atton lay back in the pillows with a contented smile.  "I make you not need to breathe?"

"I thought you were asleep," Mical changed the subject.

"I am asleep," Atton grinned.  "I'm dreaming that beautiful women and handsome men are kissing me in my sleep."

Mical smiled, and looked away.

Atton stretched, and put his arms behind his head, under the pillow.  "You know, I didn't expect you to actually know what you were doing," grinned Atton.  "You don't seem the type."

"The galaxy is far too big for you to expect everyone to fit into specific 'types,' Atton."

Atton smiled, slightly mocking and dark.  "It's true most of the time.  So what's bothering you about me?"

Mical frowned.  "This isn't really the place for a serious discussion, is it?"

"It is if you want to end up in bed.  Saves a lot of walking."

Mical laughed gently.  "I can't say I disapprove of your plan, but I really would feel more comfortable having a serious talk somewhere where you're fully clothed and sitting up."

"What fun is that?" Atton protested.  "Can we compromise?  Can I be standing up?"  Mical looked at him in surprise, and Atton continued.  "Against a wall, half-naked.  I'll let you pick which half."

Mical closed his eyes and tried not to visualize Atton's offer.  "No, I don't think so."

"You look like you're thinking about it."

Mical gritted his teeth and tried to focus.

"At least part of you does, anyway.  You shouldn't do that with your teeth, you'll get headaches.  I know a great way to get rid of headaches," Atton said helpfully.

"Stop.  Talking."

Atton laughed, rich and dark and sweet.

Mical groaned.  "I'm leaving now, M'adouin."

Ludmilla bounced into the room, carrying an armful of clean clothes that she tossed onto a crate.  "Aww, I missed the kissing.  Again."

Mical sighed.  "Perhaps another time.  I'll be going now."

"If you must."  She looked at him.  "Oh, Atton, what have you been doing to poor Mical?" she grinned.  "He looks all worn out!"

"I tried to get him to lie down, but he wouldn't."

"I'm sure you did," Ludmilla laughed.  She gave Mical a quick hug.  "I'll stop, I'll stop.  Relax," she said gently.  "You worry too much."

Mical put his arms carefully around her, and let himself sink into her embrace for a moment, drawing strength from her.  He considered, and before he could convince himself not to, kissed her gently on the cheek, making her smile.

"I think I understand you a little better now," said Atton irrepressibly.  "That's really hot."

"I need to leave now," whispered Mical in her ear.  "I need to think, please excuse me."  Mical pulled away, and left the room before Atton could say anything else, closing the door tightly behind him.

Atton looked at Ludmilla curiously.  "I think he hates me, but I can't tell."

"What?"  Ludmilla laughed.  "He doesn't hate you."

"He wants to have sex with me, yes, but he doesn't like me."

"He doesn't trust you," she corrected him gently, "and much like someone else I know," she sat down on the bed, and drew Atton's head into her lap, "he doesn't trust himself around you, and it bothers him.  Especially when he can't figure out why someone like you practically throws yourself at him."

"It's his own fault for being sexy," Atton pouted, then grinned up at her.  "He is sexy, right?  It's not just me?"

"He is," she admitted, and kissed Atton on the lips.  "But he doesn't like women that much."

"What?  That totally ruins my plans."

Ludmilla laughed, and kissed him again.  "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Atton pushed himself up on his elbows, and kissed her breasts.  "I'll figure something out.  Later."


	34. AF, DK

"Oh, a protocol droid," said Mical, pleased to find another pair of hands.  "Help me with this, please, I'm having trouble with this inventory module."

The droid looked at him curiously.  "Query: You are a crewmember?  Statement: Your identity has not been verified by approved personnel."

"You're absolutely right," Mical mused.  "Who would you consider approved personnel?  You're an HK unit, correct?  You're different from the ones I've seen."

Goto floated over.  "This is an obsolete HK-47 unit.  It served as a template for the more popular HK-50 units."

Despite the fact that it was just a soulless machine, Mical got the impression that the droid was both offended and irritated at being called obsolete.

"Well, so long as it isn't prone to memory corruption and random explosions like the more common ones, I'll be happy.  It looks rather reliable, if you ask me.  Most of the regular protocol units look rather flimsy."

"Statement: I am a custom unit, and any copies that you have seen were made without permission of the original manufacturer."

"Oh," said Mical, "however did that happen?"

"HK, this organic is a crewmember.  You may find him attached to either the pilot or the General.  He is to be excluded from activating your distance protocols."

"Observation:  A multipurpose organic, most impressive."

"Thank you," said Mical stiffly.  "Now that we've cleared that up, would you mind assisting me with this inventory module?"

"Statement: It is my pleasure to serve, officious meatbag."

"What?"

"Don't mind him, Mical.  It's a personality quirk," said Goto, and Mical could hear the Exchange overlord holding back a laugh.

Mical growled, but decided to ignore it in favor of actually getting his work done, and led the droid back to the medbay so that he could finish his inventory.

The small utility droid buzzed up, and squeaked at the protocol droid.

"Statement: You are an irritant."

The utility droid beeped again, more demandingly.

"Observation: You are still vulnerable at 3 points in your precious armor."

The utility droid squealed in panic and zipped away.

"What was that all about?"

The protocol droid turned and looked at Mical.  His optical units were a very dark red, rather than the calming yellow of the HK-50 series so currently popular, and his outer shell was rust-colored rather than grey, and looked more like armor than the standard plating of a normal protocol droid.  "Query: Do I interfere with your social interactions, officious meatbag?"

"My social interactions don't sound like I'm threatening to kill my fellow crewmembers."

"Statement: Your lack of social skills is not my concern."

Mical stared at the droid.  "Did you suffer damage to your social matrix?  Maybe you should ask the General to take a look at your core."

"Clarification: My core programming is functioning well within my operating parameters.  Statement: I was not designed to," the droid actually made a coughing noise, perfectly imitating a Human tone of condescension, "'facilitate the termination of hostilities,' as the more common HK-50 series was apparently programmed to do."

"Were you programmed to be especially obnoxious?"

"Observation: The officious meatbag is more observant than I originally gave him credit for.  Query: Is it necessary to reward the officious meatbag with a treat to promote continued development?"

"What?"

"Query: Is that not the proper training protocol for companion animals?"

Mical stared at the droid without speaking, and could hear Goto laughing uncontrollably in the main room, just outside the medbay.

"Query: Is our task complete?"

"You can go.  Please."

"Statement: With pleasure.  Clarification: Should the officious meatbag need assistance in the future, please hesitate to ask me."  The HK unit stalked off.

Mical shook his head, and walked down to the galley.  A young Miraluka woman and a young, very scantily clad, red-haired woman were fighting over something on the table.

"Fine, you go get Atton to make more then!  Blind bitch!"  The red-haired woman dodged quickly, and a plate slammed into the wall where her head would have been, while the Miraluka hugged a pitcher to her chest defensively.

"I hate you!" snarled the Miraluka in her soft voice.  "One of these days, I'm going to shove you out the airlock!"

"Excuse me," said Mical carefully.

Both women turned instantly.  "What?" they said in unison.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the red-haired woman.

"I'm Mical," he said slowly.  "Is everything all right here?"

"The Sith whore stole the last cup of chocolate!"

"The bounty hunter bitch already had three cups!"

"Wait, you're Mical?" said the red-haired woman.  "One second, c'mere, Visas."

The Miraluka drained the pitcher quickly before following the red-haired woman into the washroom.

"What the hell?" he heard the red-haired woman exclaim.  "You're on the leaderboard already?"

"By the heavens, what?"

The two women, who had been screaming at each other mere moments ago, peeked out of the washroom and stared at Mical.

"You don't look like ten stars," said the red-haired woman.  "I'm Mira, by the way."  She stepped out of the washroom, and held out her hand.  Mical shook it, still completely baffled.

"I am Visas."  The Miraluka held out her hand, and Mical shook it also.  "You have nice hands," she smiled.

"Good shoulders, too," Mira commented.

"I – er – what is going on?"

"And a very wonderful voice," said Visas softly.

"Nah, I like 'em a little more gravelly.  You know, like the Mandalore."  Mira took off running, before Visas could throw something at her.

"You bitch!"  Visas used the Force to send a plate at Mira, but missed, and ran up the stairs in chase of her.

"I am so confused," said Mical to himself.  He walked into the washroom, trying to figure out what the women had meant by the comment about stars.

On the wall of the washroom were two leaderboards.  One was labeled 'OG' and had star ratings for Flyboy, Squeaky, Jailbait, Walking Carpet, Preachy, Mandy, Kitty, and The Rambler; with a note underneath that no droids were allowed.  Squeaky was the winner on the OG leaderboard, followed by Mandy and Flyboy, who were tied.

Mical stared at the wall, and remembered Kreia's comment that at least he wouldn't write on the walls.  Aside from the leaderboards, the wall was covered with graffiti.  Hearts with names in them, doodles, Mandalorian songs, battle plans, circuit designs.  He stepped closer, to read one of the hearts.  It was an elaborately drawn design, perfectly symmetrical, done in permanent marker.  The drawing must have taken hours.  The heart was labeled, 'Patience and Carth.'  Mical stared.  "Carth… Onasi?  Oh, but it can't be."  Mical tilted his head in confusion, and continued to stare at the heart.

"You really do look like a dog when you do that," said the Mandalorian that Mical had met earlier when he had come onboard with Kreia and Atton.  "I'm Canderous, I don't think we were doing names before."

Mical shook his hand.  "I'm Mical."

"Yeah, I know, the girls said they had run into you down here."  Canderous looked at the wall.  "Were you checking the board?"  Canderous grinned, and stepped past Mical.  He took a gold paint pen from the top shelf, and added another star to the column labeled 'Lips.'  "That's for Visas."

"Ah."

"You're 'Watchdog.'  Don't blame me, Atton made that up.  Although, I think he's got a point.  And he gave you ten stars, so you can't really complain."

"Of course," said Mical, trying to stay calm.  "Who are the others?"

Canderous laughed.  "Well, our current winner is the General," he said, pointing to the column labeled 'Boobies,' "and let's be honest, we all know she's gonna win."

"Who is Wow?"

"Heh, that's Kreia.  The 'Wise Old Woman' or the 'Wicked Old Witch,' depending on the day."

"Why does Kreia have stars?"

"Because we're all terrified of her," Canderous grinned.  "So everyone gives her a courtesy star."  He handed the pen to Mical.  "You might want to put yours on there."

Mical considered, then walked up and put a star on Kreia's column.

The Mandalorian chuckled again.  "And 'Hot Buns' is Atton, in case you were wondering."  He pointed to the shelf.  "Just be sure to put the pen back when you're done."

Mical looked at the remaining columns.  "Which one are you?"

"For some reason, I got slapped with 'Pervert,' which I really don't deserve," said the Mandalorian in the most insincere voice Mical had ever heard.

"Obviously," said Mical dryly, "and if Mira is 'Firecracker,' that leaves the Iridonian to be 'Horny.'  Do you people ever do any work on this ship?"

Canderous laughed.  "The work gets done.  Hey, we can't be heroic and dashing every Standard hour of the day.  We need breaks now and then."  The Mandalorian left the room, laughing again, and Mical heard him bound up the stairs.

Mical looked at the wall again, and shook his head in disapproval.  He moved to put the pen back, then looked around quickly, and added two stars to Atton's column before returning to medbay.  He started to walk into the room, and stopped in shock, making a strange noise.

"Oh, hi, Mical!" said Atton cheerily.  "Are you okay?"

"What – what are you wearing?  And stop touching my things!"

Atton crossed his arms over his bare chest, and looked defiantly at Mical, a pose that was made even more alluring by the fact that he was, as usual, wearing nothing but a length of silk wrapped around his hips.  "It's not my fault you put your things with all the medical supplies."

"You're naked!"

"No, he isn't," called out Ludmilla as she walked behind Mical on her way to the galley.  "He's got clothes on."

Mical turned to protest, and gasped again when he saw what she was – or rather, wasn't – wearing.  "What?  Why is everyone on this ship insane?"

Ludmilla burst out laughing, and ran down to pick up her clothes from the laundering unit.

"I think it's something in the air," grinned Atton.  "Anyway, did you want some coffee?  I'm going to make some food, apparently everyone is starving or something."  Atton slipped past Mical, carefully not touching him, and walked down the stairs.

"I don't even – what?"  Mical stared at the medbay.  "Atton!"  Mical growled to himself.  He started putting his belongings back where they were belonged, and then with a grim smile, set up a little trap.  "Just in case."

"What happened to all your stuff?" asked Ludmilla.  She was wearing pants and a tank top now, so that Mical could look at her without blushing.

"Atton.  Atton happened.  What does he have against me?" said Mical in despair.

"He thinks you're interesting," Ludmilla explained.  "He likes you."

Mical looked at her in disbelief.  "I don't think that's quite right," he said doubtfully.

Ludmilla grinned, and shook her head.  "Weren't you going to talk to him or something?  Maybe that will help the two of you understand each other better."

"I don't – " Mical sighed.  "I suppose I ought to," he said quietly.

"Mical," said Ludmilla gently.  "You need to have a little faith in the Force – and yourself."

"I do," said Mical, "usually."  He sighed.  "I'll go talk to him."

"I'll be fixing stuff around the ship, if you need me."  Ludmilla walked away.

Mical sighed again, and walked down the stairs to find Atton.

"Oh, hello, Mical.  Did you need something?"

"I um, I wanted to talk, if you're not busy.  Or perhaps I could help you out with the cooking," Mical offered.

"You cook?"  Atton smiled.

"Not at all," Mical assured him, "but I'm rather good at manual labor.  Just tell me what to do."

Atton shook his head.  "I don't really need any help, thanks though."

"Really?" said Mical slowly.  "I thought perhaps I could help you chop vegetables and whatnot.  Maybe then you wouldn't cut yourself as much as you usually do."

Atton didn't respond for a moment, then laughed gently and continued cooking.

"Or all those little burns you give yourself."

Atton looked at him sharply.  "What?  Go away, Mical.  I don't need any help."

"Atton," Mical began patiently, but Atton turned on him.

"I said get out!" Atton snarled.  "Don't bother me.  Don't try to fix me.  If you don't like what you see, leave it alone."

"I think you misunderstand me," said Mical nervously.  "I'm not – I can't not see it, Atton.  I can't make myself not care."

Atton glared at him, and didn't speak.

"Don't ask me not to care, Atton, I can't.  I – I've already done this wrong, once.  I can't – "  Mical sat down suddenly, shaking and unable to stand.  "I just can't, I'm sorry."  He held out his hands, a little helplessly and still worried.  "Please, Atton.  I just want to help.  Do you really want me to leave?"  To his surprise and delight, Atton stepped into his arms, leaning against him, wrapped his slender arms around Mical's shoulders.  "Oh, M'adouin," he whispered, his lips against Atton's bare chest, "I just want to help you."

Atton bent his head down to Mical's, and kissed his cheek.  Mical could feel Atton's long lashes on his skin as Atton closed his eyes.  "You are helping me, Mical."  Atton's warm lips burned into his skin as Atton kissed him softly, ever so softly.

"Oh, no, no, there will be none of that," said Kreia harshly.  "Stop that this instant!"

Atton made an angry noise of frustration.  "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"There is no food left, and no chocolate.  You were in the middle of cooking.  You," she said sharply to Mical, "you at least should have some self-control.  Let the boy do his work.  It is the one thing he deigns to do aboard the ship."

Atton kissed Mical's hair, then pulled away reluctantly.  "Fine, fine.  Evil witch," he muttered under his breath.

"And you," snapped Kreia.  "Out.  Now.  You can play with the boy when the food is done.  If you need something to do, the storeroom could use some cleaning."

Mical stood, very embarrassed at being caught like a naughty teenager.  "I don't think that's necessary.  I assure you, Kreia, I can restrain myself when I need to."

"Really?" said Atton, sweetly.  He licked some sauce from his fingers.  "Hmm...  not quite right.  I think this needs something."  He dripped some more sauce on his hand and licked it off again, trying to decide what was missing, very carefully not looking at Mical while he ran his tongue over his fingers.

Mical inhaled sharply, then turned to Kreia.  "Where is this storeroom?"

"Up the stairs, and to the left."

"We can finish talking later," Atton offered.  "I'll be fine, Mical.  Thank you," smiled Atton, and finished licking the sauce from the tips of his fingers.

"Talking," sneered Kreia.

"Yes," said Mical, slightly dazed.  "We can talk later."  He started for the stairs.

"Look out for that wall, Mical."

"Oh, yes, of course."  Mical shook himself, and smiled gratefully at Atton, then walked up the stairs properly.  Mical looked in the storeroom that Kreia had mentioned, and flinched in horror.  "What a mess!"  He set to, and started cleaning and organizing.

"Wouldn't that be easier if you took off your shirt?" Bao-Dur suggested.  He was repairing something on the ceiling tiles.

"Oh, probably," Mical agreed, and pulled off his shirt, folding it neatly before he set it aside.  He reached up for another disorganized crate, and from the corner of his eyes, saw a movement.  He turned, to see Ludmilla handing a bag of candy to Bao-Dur.  "What are you doing?"

Ludmilla grinned wickedly.  "What?  He earned it."

Mical grumbled under his breath, but decided to ignore it.  He could not, however, ignore the cheerful comments from Mira, describing what he looked like to Visas, and doing a point-by-point comparison between him and Canderous.

"Yeah, he's got no scars," Mira confirmed.

"Well, that's boring," said Visas.  "Scars give such nice texture."

"Does everyone on this ship specialize in sexual harassment?" Mical growled.

"Oh, I love his accent when he's angry!" purred Mira.  She turned to Visas.  "Wanna go make out?"

"Okay," Visas agreed, and the two women disappeared.

Bao-Dur stared after them.  "I missed something."

"Canderous is apparently very persuasive," Ludmilla explained.

Bao-Dur looked up at the ceiling.  "I think that's done for now.  Have you seen T3 anywhere?"

"He's dodging HK.  Check the engine room or the navicomputer."

Bao-Dur jumped down, and pushed the crates that he had been standing on out of the way.

"Wait," said Ludmilla suspiciously, "you're not going to spy on them, are you?"  Bao-Dur grinned, and didn't answer.  "Hey!"  Ludmilla had a console open, and couldn't leave it, so Bao-Dur got away.

Mical chuckled.  "You seem so surprised.  I would have thought that kind of behavior was par for the course, here."

Ludmilla laughed, and went back to work.

"It's cold up here.  Oh, a shirt!" said Atton joyfully.  He took Mical's shirt from the floor and put it on, while Mical tried not to drop a box in surprise.  It was too big for him, and he didn't bother closing it in front.  Atton laughed, and walked into the medbay.  "I'm not touching your things," he called out.  "Just getting an icepack.  Ooh, what's that up there?"

"I did warn you," Mical muttered under his breath.

"Hey!"  There was a clicking noise, and Atton twisted around, trying to get his hands free.

"What are you doing, Atton?" asked Mical, without bothering to look.

"Nothing," said Atton innocently.  "Just, you know, hanging around."  He leaned back against the shelves, making himself comfortable.

Intrigued, Ludmilla walked over to see.  "Oh, my."

Atton, his hands locked in a pair of silvery restraints attached to the shelves above his head, was just standing casually, as if this was a perfectly natural position for him to be in.  In Mical's white shirt, and the black silk around his hips, with his hands above his head, he looked more than ever like one of the classical statues that decorated the palaces and museums of Corellia.

"Hello," said Atton cheerfully.  "There's coffee and snacks in the galley, if you're hungry."  Atton grinned.

Ludmilla stared for a few more moments.  "Think he'll still be where I get back?"

"He will be if he knows what's good for him," said Mical calmly.

"Because I am really hungry," Ludmilla grinned.  She stepped forward, and gave Atton a long, slow kiss.  "I really need to try that sometime," she grinned, and looked up at the restraints.

"Ask Mical, he seems to know a lot about this sort of thing."

"I'd rather have him demonstrate," said Ludmilla.  She kissed Atton again, then ran downstairs, laughing.

"Soo...Mical.  How long do you plan to leave me here?"

"Until I'm done working."

"I only ask because – "

Canderous walked out of the room that he shared with Visas, and nodded to Mical.  He looked casually over at the medbay, and walked into the wall.  "Ow!"  Canderous knelt down, covering his nose and trying not to think about what he had just seen.

"I only ask, because it's slightly hazardous."  Atton smiled.

Mical just shook his head.  "Are you all right, Canderous?"

"Yeah, fine, just…."  He forced himself to stand up and not look at the medbay again.

"What is all this noise?" Kreia demanded.  "Oh, my."  She looked at Atton, then at Mical.  "Is this your doing?"

Mical nodded.

"You missed one of the mainframe cables, by the way," said Kreia calmly.  "It's on the floor, there."  She pointed.

Mical blinked.  He had expected her to tell him to let Atton go.  Mical shrugged, and picked up the cable that he had missed.  "Thank you."  He put the cable away with the others that he had placed neatly on the shelves.

"You don't happen to have a gag somewhere in your belongings, do you?" said Kreia hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

Canderous made a choked noise.

"What is wrong with you?" snapped Kreia.

"All the blood is rushing to his head," said Atton helpfully.

"Can you make a gag?" asked Kreia.

Mical grinned.  "Probably, but I would prefer to find a different method to keep him quiet."

Canderous turned and walked back to his room.  He stuck his head around the corner again, "You don't happen to have a spare pair of cuffs, do you?"

"No."

"Damn," Canderous disappeared.

"Did you make some food, boy?"

Atton nodded.

"Good, I'm starving."  Kreia gracefully swept away and went down to the galley.

Atton hummed a little tune and watched Mical work.

"Are you comfortable?" asked Mical gently.

"Oh, I'm fine," Atton assured him.  "Just a bit bored.  Kissing would make this a lot more fun," he said hopefully.

"I'm not done working yet," Mical smiled.

"You're almost done," said Atton sweetly.  "And I'm very bored."  Atton laid his head against his arm, and swung a little on his hands, watching Mical.  "Bored," he repeated, in a soft little singsong.

"Atton."

"You ever have that nightmare where your clothes all fall off for no reason?" he asked innocently.

"I suppose I could finish this later."  Mical stood up and dusted off his hands.  He walked over to medbay, and removed the cuffs from the hook he had set up earlier.

"So," grinned Atton, "are you going to unlock those now?"

"Not just yet," said Mical gently, and lifted Atton, so that he could carry him away.

"Oh.  Well."  Atton settled into his arms in comfortable surprise.  "Okay."

"You seem remarkably well-adjusted to being handled in this fashion."

Atton looked at him in surprise.  "What?  I like being lazy.  I'm really good at it," he grinned.

"So you are," Mical laughed, and walked into the cargo hold.  Ludmilla had already added a little more space, as she had mentioned earlier, and even more pillows.  He closed the door, and was going to set Atton down on the bed, but Atton moved first, putting his arms over Mical's head with a playful grin.

Before Mical could speak, Atton moved closer, and caught him in a fiery kiss.  He pulled Mical closer, leaning on him, depending on the older man's strength.

"No, M'adouin, not yet," Mical tried to say, but Atton kept kissing him.

"No talking," Atton pleaded, "nothing good ever comes from talking."  He kissed Mical again, skin against skin, warm and willing.  "Can't we just make out?"

"M'adouin," Mical whispered, holding Atton still so that he could whisper gently into Atton's ear, "I want to make love to you.  I want to hear you screaming my name.  I want to feel you underneath me."

Atton shivered, but didn't speak, or pull away from Mical.  He closed his eyes, and Mical could feel his breath, warm on his face, quick and uneven.

"M'adouin?"

"Why do you like me?  Shouldn't you hate me?  You know who I am."

Mical sighed.  "Not exactly.  I know who they say you are, but… that doesn't really tell me anything, does it?"

Atton looked at him strangely.

"I would rather," said Mical nervously, "that you told me who you are."

Atton continued to stare at him.

"I could tell you who I am," Mical offered, still nervous and unsure, and very distracted by the way Atton was clinging to him.  "Well, not my name – I don't actually have one besides Mical.  I wasn't just brought to the Jedi, I was abandoned," he said softly.  "I tried very hard to be grateful, but it wasn't always easy.  Especially after Master Sîvoš – Ludmilla – left for the wars, and everything that happened after."

"So where did you learn to kiss the way you do?" asked Atton, trying to keep the tone light.

Mical smiled.  "Well, here and there.  I – I've always liked um – people who look a bit like you.  You know what they say, opposites attract," he said, unsure how Atton would react.

Atton merely smiled, and waited for him to continue.

"I don't think there is anything else significant thing about me, besides the part where I'm a very unglamorous spy.  I've had a few relationships, but they all ended quite calmly."

"You're still friends with them all, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," said Mical, slightly embarrassed.  "I'm not usually passionate about anything."

Atton looked at him curiously.

"Not like this," said Mical softly.  "I have no idea what to do."

"I could make some suggestions," Atton said with a little smile.  "They all start with kissing, by the way," he smiled as he kissed him again.

"M'adouin," Mical whispered softly.  "I can't stop thinking about you, and worrying about you.  But I don't know what to say," he said, unable to believe how anxious he was.  "I don't want to upset you."

"What do you want to hear, Mical?  Do you want me to tell you all about the Incubus?"

Mical shook his head.  "That's not what bothers me so much."  He swallowed, nervously, and ran his hands along the underside of the slender arms around his neck, feeling the taut muscles beneath the almost flawless skin, marred only by a series of pale white scars and half-healed burns.  "But I don't know what to say."

Atton looked away, and smiled strangely.  The cuffs fell to the floor behind Mical, and Atton walked away to sit down on the bed.

"I did it wrong, didn't I?" said Mical miserably.  "Oh, M'adouin, I'm so sorry."

Atton looked at him again.  "When I was a kid," he said suddenly, "I used to have an imaginary friend.  He looked and sounded a lot like you do.  I used to tell him everything."  Atton lay down on the bed, and put his hands behind his head.  "He never lied to me."  Atton looked over at Mical, his eyes strangely bright.  "You're the first person in years to bring it up."

"How could anyone not notice?" asked Mical fiercely.

Atton smiled, a slightly twisted and dark smile.  "I'm very good at hiding.  How did you notice?" he asked curiously.

"You kept taking bandages from my bag, and the medbay," Mical explained.  "And you would hide your arms all the time.  And a hundred other little things.  How – how does she not see the scars?"

"Oh, she's seen them," Atton grinned darkly.  "She just hasn't realized that I'm doing it to myself.  She thinks they're old."  Atton started to move his arm so that he could look at himself, but stopped.

"Would – would you like to tell me about it?" asked Mical uncertainly.

Atton shrugged.  "Do you want to listen?"

Mical nodded.

"Well, I don't.  It's not that I don't trust you – or her – I just don't want to think about it," Atton explained.  "Come here."

Mical moved closer to the bed, and gingerly sat down on the edge, looking at Atton.

"Why are you making this so difficult?" Atton laughed.  He reached up and pulled Mical down to him, drawing his leg up to twine it around Mical's.  He put his arms around Mical's neck, and let Mical settle on top of him.  "I hope you're comfortable," Atton grinned.  "I know I am."  He slid one hand in Mical's hair, and let the other explore Mical's arm and shoulder.

"Oh, M'adouin," Mical whispered hoarsely.  "I've wanted this since the first moment I saw you," he slowly moved his hips over Atton's, kissed the delicate curves of Atton's face.

"In the library?" said Atton in surprise.  "You didn't even notice me."

"The first time I saw you, M'adouin, was in a bar.  I pulled a drunken brute off you.  I got a kiss and a broken arm for my pains, and a severe reprimand for letting you get away.  You thanked me, then told me to stop meddling before you kissed me and walked off.  I couldn't believe it when I found out who you were.  I'm still not quite sure," he murmured softly.

Atton sat up a little, and looked at Mical.  "When was this?"

"Quite a few years ago.  I didn't say anything to you," Mical explained.  "I'm not surprised you don't recognize me.  I had blood all over my face, and it wasn't the sort of place where you would expect to find me."

Atton blushed slightly at the memory.  "That doesn't count," he protested.  "That was ages ago, and it was just a few minutes."

"It counted to me."

"That's just crazy, you can't – you don't – why do you even remember something so stupid?"

"Because you were – are – the most beautiful person I have ever seen.  I saw you walk in, and I couldn't believe that you were real, not even when you started talking to that brute."

"Wait – he was a Jedi.  Were you supposed to be protecting him?" asked Atton with amusement.

Mical nodded, somewhat ashamed to remember how he had failed that assignment, and why.

"But instead, you protected me," said Atton softly.  He kissed Mical's shoulder, trying not to think.

"You needed it more.  You still do, M'adouin," said Mical gently.

"So, if we're done talking, can we make out now?" asked Atton shyly.  He tilted his head up to look at Mical, his dark eyes shining.

"If you like," Mical bent his head down to him, and kissed him again.  "I was rather hoping to do a little more," he said suggestively, and let his hand find its way up Atton's thigh, beneath the silk.  Atton moaned into the kiss, and Mical's hand explored farther.  "I want you so badly," Mical groaned.

Atton laughed, and Mical was surprised at how sweet and innocent he sounded, considering his current position.

"Are you laughing at me, M'adouin?"

"At the world," Atton whispered softly.  "What kind of world is it where angels fuck and devils kiss?"

Mical laughed, a little nervously.  "Of course, if you don't want to, M'adouin, I won't force you."

Atton laughed again, joyous and sweet, and moved his legs, opening himself to Mical.  "I think you've waited patiently long enough," he said softly, and gasped as Mical's fingers, slick and wet, slid into him.  "I want to.  I want you.  But you're going to make me pass out again," he grinned, "and then I'll miss half the kissing."

"I'll make it up to you," Mical promised, and kissed Atton again.  He gently moved his fingers inside Atton, listened to Atton's soft breathing, quiet gasps, sighs of pleasure.  He added another finger, and Atton cried out.  Mical could feel him shudder, saw his hands clutch at the sheets.  "Are you – having an orgasm?  Just from that?"  He could feel the answer to his question in the heat and the wild pulses of Atton's body around his fingers.  "You're not even hard," he whispered in amazement.  "Do you do that all the time?"

Atton gasped, and clutched wildly at Mical.  "No, it's just you, I've never – " was all he managed to say before the sensations coming from Mical's touch set him off again.  He lay back, panting desperately.  "I don't know what you're doing differently," he whimpered, "but I can't – oh, don't stop, don't!"  He cried out again, almost a shriek this time, as Mical drew his fingers out of Atton's body.

Mical smiled, and gently kissed him, letting Atton breathe.

"You know, if I had known you could make me come like that two times in a row, I would never have gotten out of bed the first time."  Atton laughed shakily, and took a few deep breaths, trying to recover.

Mical kissed him gently.  "I didn't know either," he smiled.  "I think it's more that you fit me perfectly," he suggested, gently stroking his thumb around the outer rim, making Atton shiver.  "Like you were made for my hands to touch."

Atton smiled strangely, turned his head away for a second, took another deep breath, without answering.  He stretched, and arched into Mical's caress with a soft moan, as Mical leaned over him, gently kissing Atton's face, while he moved himself even closer over Atton's body.

"You're very flexible," Mical smiled, as he moved Atton's legs up and away, exposing Atton's soft, welcoming center.  He kissed him again, drinking in the softness and sweetness of Atton's lips.  "So very, very beautiful."  Surprised and pleased, he felt Atton's lips curve in a smile at his words, and Atton kissed him again, pulled him closer for a deep kiss.  Suddenly, Atton gasped, his fingers tangled in Mical's hair, and Mical felt the lithe body beneath him submit to his penetration.  Mical groaned in wild pleasure at the heat, the tightness.

Atton arched into the thrust, and moved his hands, bracing himself against the wall.  Mical moved again, and Atton choked back a wild scream.  He moved again, covering his mouth with one hand.

"Oh, no, M'adouin," Mical whispered passionately, "I want to hear you."  He moved Atton's hand away, and gently held down both of Atton's slender wrists with his hand.  "Let me hear you, M'adouin."  He kissed Atton's beautiful face again, savoring the increasingly wild noises coming from the younger man in response to his movements.  Mical used his other hand to lift Atton's hips a little closer to him, so that he could penetrate even deeper, and drove his entire length into Atton's body.

Beneath him, he felt Atton shake suddenly, a soft sweet wetness between their bodies, and Atton screamed again, his entire body arched back, his beautiful dark head tossed from side to side, and then Mical felt his own release, filling Atton, under the influence of the soft heat gripping him so tightly that Mical thought he might pass out himself.

Mical forced himself to stay still while Atton collapsed into the bed, and slowly pulled away, panting and weak, almost shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.  He couldn't take his eyes from Atton's face, unbelievably sweet in sated repose.  Mical kissed him again, uncaring that he was approaching idolatry in his passion for Atton, and lay down next to him, pulling the beautiful man into his arms so that Atton would be the first thing he would see when he opened his eyes.


	35. A Million Words for Love

"I can't believe he's still asleep," Mical laughed, and kissed Atton again.

With a soft sigh, Atton returned the kiss and nestled back into the soft embrace instead of opening his eyes.

"He's awake," smiled Ludmilla, "he just doesn't want to get up.  Do you blame him?"  She ran her hands through Atton's hair again.  "Do we have a reason to get up?"

"Well, I'm sure there are a million things that we should be doing," said Mical before he leaned over and kissed Atton again.

"Is that one of them?" she asked with amusement.  Atton's head was pillowed on her breasts, and he was wrapped around her, while Mical was on the other side, half sitting up and periodically kissing Atton in a fruitless attempt to wake him up.  "You know, you could kiss me once or twice.  It wouldn't kill you."

Mical blushed guiltily, and moved up to kiss Ludmilla.  Her lips were firm, but full and generous, and he pulled away, slightly breathless.  He swallowed nervously, and tried to think of what he should say, but before he could say anything, Atton was kissing him, then Ludmilla, then somehow both of them at the same time.

"This is wonderful," said Atton, his voice shy and full of unexpected happiness.  "I'm not getting up, I have everything I want right here."

Ludmilla laughed joyously.  "Everything?"

"Well, we're missing a few things, but I'm content," Atton smiled, and laid his head on her breasts again, and watched Mical smiling at him.  "Nothing important."

Ludmilla laughed again, and drew Atton up to her lips for a kiss.  "Well, I'd starve to death if I stayed in here for the rest of my life.  And didn't you want babies or something?"

Mical looked at Atton curiously, and Atton blushed.  "Really?"

"I'll go make some food," said Atton, and slipped out of bed without answering, pausing only to wrap a sheet around his hips before he ran out of the room.

Mical propped his head on his elbow and watched him leave.

"Isn't he lovely?" smiled Ludmilla, and stretched out in the bed, relaxing.

"He is," Mical agreed.  "He really wants children?"

Ludmilla nodded.  "He hated being an only child."  She almost said more, but decided against it.  "But we have to use a clinic, because I'm not giving up a year and ruining my body when there are perfectly good crèches available."

Mical laughed.  "You don't seem like the mothering type."  He looked at her body, the power and beauty of her form evident beneath the sheet covering her.  "You are rather lovely yourself," he observed, "but more of a warrior goddess than a mother."

She smiled at the compliment.  "Thank you," she leaned over and kissed Mical gently on the lips, and when he didn't pull away, drew him closer for more.

"Hey, General, what the – " Bao-Dur blinked, and looked away.  "Sorry to interrupt, but Kreia threatened me if I didn't get you out here."

Ludmilla made a noise of impatience.  "I'll be right there."

"Not with a naked man in your bed, you won't.  Sorry, General, I know you."

Mical laughed before he could stop himself.  "I'll get up," he smiled.  He got out of the bed, and Ludmilla offered him a sheet to wear, which he took without thinking.

"Seriously, General?  What do you have against me?"

"At the moment?  Nothing at all.  If you come closer, I could fix that," she said helpfully.

Mical concentrated on covering his nudity, and pointedly did not turn around to look at the beautiful woman lying naked in the bed behind him.

Ludmilla laughed and stood, then picked up her clothes from the floor.  "No, really, I'll be right out."  She got dressed, and walked out to the main cabin, where Visas and Mira where trying to get something from Canderous, and had wrestled him down to the floor.  "Where's Kreia?"

"She's – stop hitting me, woman, is that any way to treat the Mandalore?  She's locked herself in her quarters.  Says she's had enough of our Mandalorian perversions."

Ludmilla grinned.  "Hey, gotta do something about all those unmarried women left after the wars.  It's for the good of the Republic!"

Bao-Dur looked at her.  "Then why are you hogging two men?"

"I'm getting my revenge on the Republic for agreeing to my exile," she grinned wickedly.  Ludmilla threw her head back and laughed, then pulled Visas away from Canderous.  "Shoo, stop causing such a ruckus."

"But you like ruckuses," smiled Visas.  She straightened her gown and carefully checked that her veil was straight, then ran into the bedroom and locked the door.

Mira looked up in surprise, then down at Canderous, who opened his hand to show that it was empty.  "Oh, that bitch!" screamed Mira in rage, and sprang to her feet.

"No, none of that," said Ludmilla firmly, and blocked Mira from running to the bedroom, where Visas was giggling uncontrollably.  "And you, get up," she said, gently nudging Canderous with her toes.

"But the view from here is excellent," he grinned as he stood.

"Mira, go sit down.  Canderous, tell Visas to come out and stop being a brat.  Bao-Dur, go get Atton."

"Something up, General?"

Ludmilla straightened herself.  "We're approaching Korriban.  I'll get Kreia.  I want everyone here, and ready to listen."

She walked over to Kreia's quarters, giving everyone enough time to throw off their immature act and get serious again.

"You feel it, don't you?" said Kreia softly.

Ludmilla nodded.  The ship had dropped out of hyperspace, and was orbiting a world that belonged unmistakably to the Dark Side.

"Have you been here before?" Kreia asked curiously.  "During your travels?"

"I've never set foot on Korriban," said Ludmilla shortly.  "Come on, let's get everyone together and talk."

Kreia smiled slowly to herself, and followed Ludmilla to the main cabin.

Everyone, even the droids, had gathered and looked curiously at Ludmilla.

"Sorry, but it's lecture time."  She brought up the galaxy map on the console.  "This is the Horuset system, there's one planet, Korriban, and two debris belts.  We are going to Korriban, which is bad because the debris fields make it very easy for anyone to hide."  She pointed out the two criss-crossing bands of debris in orbit around Horuset's sun.  "Notice there is no way to approach Korriban without crossing both belts.  Basically, from here on, we'll assume someone is watching us.  Keep your eyes open.  If we're going to run into Sith anywhere, it would be here."

"What's so special about Korriban?" asked Mira.

"It's the homeworld of the Sith," said Ludmilla.  "It is a world of the Dark Side, and the traditional burying ground of the Sith Lords.

"Why would a Jedi come here?"

"It's a really good hiding place," said Ludmilla calmly, "no one would look for a Jedi Master on a place like Korriban.  The problem is – "

"Korriban itself," said Kreia softly.

Mical looked at her in confusion.

"It is a place of much power, and it calls to those who can hear it.  It is the repository of much knowledge and wisdom, both Dark and Light."

"Light?" said Mical doubtfully.

Kreia smiled slowly.  "Most of the Sith Lords buried on Korriban were great Jedi Masters first.  Many teachings believed lost still linger with the spirits that litter Korriban."

"Spirits?"  Mira stared at her.  "Like, ghosts?"

Kreia nodded.  "The Sith homeworld holds tightly to the spirits of the departed.  They rarely become completely one with the Force, regardless of how they used the Force when they were alive.  Hence the vast proliferation of tombs."  Kreia turned to Ludmilla.  "Knowing what I do of Master Vash, I would suspect that she has chosen the remains of the Sith Academy to conceal herself.  She could easily hide within the vast echoes of the ruins and the slaughter, and in the event she was discovered, she could withdraw to the Valley and take refuge in one of the Great Tombs."

"Is there anything left of Dreshdae?" Ludmilla asked.

"No, what remained after Revan's escape was destroyed by the Republic and the Council a year or so after Revan disappeared."

Ludmilla looked sharply at Kreia, who frowned at her.  "All right, I'll look it up later."

"That's slightly incorrect," coughed Mical, embarrassed to be correcting an Elder.

"Oh?" said Kreia with gentle interest.  "I have often wondered what the Republic told their soldiers of the fall of Korriban."

"I was with the task force that was sent to Korriban," Mical explained.  "We found it barren and lifeless.  The Jedi sealed the tombs, and what was left of the Academy.  We did, however, bomb Dreshdae," he said nervously.  "There were pirates and mercenaries that had taken refuge there, and they wouldn't surrender."

"And no Sith Lords were found there?" asked Kreia, with barely restrained curiosity.

"No, none.  There was clear evidence that a few had escaped Korriban shortly before our task force arrived."

"Evidence?" asked Bao-Dur.

"They were Sith Lords," said Mical.  "By evidence, I mean bodies, insane survivors, and stolen ships."

"Great," said Mira.  "So, they're all gone, right?  We're not going to run into any Sith Lords now, right?"  She looked around.  "I'm going to need more grenades, aren't I?"

"Indeed, those of you who will be searching for Master Vash should be well prepared – and not just with weapons.  This place calls strongly to those aligned with the Dark Side.  No Sith Lord would be foolish enough to ignore this place."

"Those of you?" said Atton quietly.

"I know my limits," said Kreia sharply.  "If you explore Korriban's surface, you shall do so without me."

Ludmilla nodded slowly.  "The ship is a good haven."  She smiled wryly.  "So long as the chocolate supply holds out."  Ludmilla looked seriously at the crew.  "I'm not going to ask anyone to come with me.  If you want to come, you're welcome, but I'd rather take as small a group as possible, and do this as quickly as I can."

"General."

Ludmilla smiled.  "Fine, fine, you can come, old man."

"May I come?" asked Visas nervously.  "I – I want to know."

Ludmilla looked carefully at her.  "All right," she agreed.  "That should be enough.  The rest of you, stay on the ship.  If you have to leave it, stay as close as possible."  She smiled softly.  "It's not Coruscant, but the ship is a pretty good sanctuary."

Kreia looked at her.  "Clever.  Very, very clever," she said admiringly.  "No wonder you left Korriban for last."

Mical looked at Ludmilla in surprise.  "I never thought of it that way.  That is amazing."

"Again, secret Jedi talk right in front of everyone, General?"

Ludmilla smiled, and gave a little sigh.  "We're getting closer to Korriban.  Atton, despite my personal inclinations, could you put some clothes on and get ready to find somewhere to land?"

"Land, boy.  Not crash."

Atton rolled his eyes, and went to the cargo hold to get his clothes.

Ludmilla resisted for about half a Standard minute before she went in search of Atton.

"Oh, hello, beautiful," said Atton sweetly, and kissed her instead of buttoning the shirt he had just pulled on.

"Please stay on the ship," she said softly, and did the buttons for him.

Atton blinked at her.  "Is it really that bad?"

"It's not that good," she tried to smile.  "I don't like this place.  Dark Side places like this get to me.  I don't want to spend any more time here than I have to."

"And you think I would wander off and you'd have to come rescue me, is that it?" he smiled, and kissed her again.  "Are there butterflies?  I can't make any promises if butterflies are involved."

Ludmilla laughed, knowing that he was being silly just to reassure her.  "It's a desert planet.  No skwirrets, no butterflies."

"I'll be in the galley, hiding from Kreia.  I'm only getting dressed because you told me to."  Atton grinned, slightly wicked.  "Oh, and now I can get Mical to pull my clothes off again."

Ludmilla made a soft noise of appreciation, and kissed him again.  "And keep an eye on him, too."

"I'll keep two.  And some hands."

"I like that plan," she purred, and kissed him one more time.  "Okay, I'm going to go outside so you can finish getting dressed.  But I want to make it clear, that I would far rather be lying naked on a beach somewhere with you and Mical, than going to Korriban."

"Oh," Atton said in surprise.  "I like that idea.  Can we do that someday?  Why are we not doing that now?"

She shrugged.  "Have to save the galaxy first.  But yes, we can do that someday, and we will."

Atton smiled.  "I'm looking forward to it."

Ludmilla kissed him again, a quick soft kiss on the lips, and then left the room, walking slowly and deliberately.

Atton lifted his jacket from the floor when he had thrown it, and checked the pockets.  He looked at the door, half open, and noted that no one was paying any attention to him.  He knelt down to find his shoes, and some other things, before putting on his jacket and walking out to pilot the ship.

T3 beeped curiously at him.

"Shut up, or I'll tell HK all your hiding places."

T3 spun around, then zipped away from Atton.

Mical walked into the cockpit.  "Atton, I do hate to disturb you while you are working, but..."

Atton glanced over at him.  Mical was wearing one of the Jedi robes that they had found in their travels.  They suited him perfectly.  "Then why are you doing it?"  Atton circled the planet again, checking for danger before he approached the only landing zone available.

"Where are my clothes?"

"What?  You're dressed.  What are you talking about?"

Mical blushed slightly.  "These are the clothes of a Jedi Master.  They're not mine.  My clothes are gone."

"Wait, you're claiming you're not a Jedi?  Does anyone believe that?"  Atton grinned at him.  "You look fine.  Stop worrying about it."

"Atton, why are all my clothes gone and replaced with Jedi robes?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about.  Shush, I need to concentrate."

Mical sat down in the co-pilot's seat with a sigh, and scanned the area.  "I'm more interested in when you did this.  You were asleep for hours.  Unless you did this earlier."  He looked suspiciously at Atton.  "You did!  How long have you been planning this?"

Atton smiled and focused on piloting instead of answering him.

"And really, what kind of person thinks Jedi robes are sexy?" muttered Mical as they landed.

The crew gathered in the main cabin again, and Ludmilla opened the doors.

"Ugh, hot," she frowned.  "Nice robes," she said to Mical before she jumped down into the fine sand.

Bao-Dur shook his head, and walked down the ramp properly.  "I like this weather," he offered.

"You would, demon guy," Mira sneered.  Bao-Dur pointedly ignored her, and she turned to Mical instead.  "I have this terrible urge to hug you.  You look exactly like one of the Jedi dolls I had when I was growing up."

"Notice she isn't finished growing up yet," said Bao-Dur quietly, and Ludmilla laughed.

Visas smiled and walked down the ramp to join them.  "I am ready," she said quietly.  She held out a pack.  "Atton made food for us!"

Ludmilla looked up the ramp, and smiled gratefully at Atton.  "Okay, let's get going."  She resolutely turned and started walking through the Valley of the Dark Lords, Bao-Dur following her closely.

Visas waved goodbye, then ran after Ludmilla and Bao-Dur.

"Everything all right, General?"

Ludmilla sighed.  "I don't want to be here.  I want to go snuggle Atton, and watch him make out with Mical."

"A noble goal," Bao-Dur grinned, "but you're a little busy right now."

"I know!  Why can't the galaxy save itself?  Why do I have to do everything?  Why can't my Dark Side temptation come in a form that doesn't make me whine?"

Bao-Dur burst out laughing.

"What do you mean?" asked Visas curiously.

"If I go back to the ship and let Master Vash die, I fail.  The Dark Side wins, everybody suffers, and I never get to go surfing on Coruscant."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said irritably.  "Never mind.  Let's just keep going."

"You're worried about the kid, aren't you?" Bao-Dur asked, smiling softly.

"Of course I am!"  Ludmilla stared as a small butterfly with bright purple wings fluttered past her.  "Oh, that's – that's just not fair."

Bao-Dur stared after the tiny bug.  "This place is a desert.  Where did that come from?"

Ludmilla stopped, and fell to her knees.  "That isn't fair," she snarled to herself.  "That just – "  She growled in frustration, and put her hands to her head.

"General, you don't seriously think that little thing is going to tempt Atton to the Dark Side, do you?  I'm sorry, I just can't take evil seriously when it has purple wings.  Especially not that purple."

She laughed shakily.  "It looked more like something from a hothouse than a tomb."

"Maybe there's a garden somewhere around here," said Visas hopefully.  "We can look for it when we're done!"

"General."

Ludmilla looked up at Bao-Dur.

"Have a little faith.  You didn't come all this way to lose to a butterfly."

She smiled.  "Thanks, old man."  Bao-Dur held out his hand and helped her back to her feet.  "Let's move on."

"Besides, Atton can't turn to the Dark Side," Bao-Dur grinned.  "He'd become ugly."

Ludmilla laughed.  "Oh, gross.  Yellow eyes."

"Parched skin."

"Oh, dear," said Visas nervously.  "Does that really happen?"

"Yes, it does.  Also, your hair falls out and what's left, turns white."  Ludmilla grinned.  "Why do you think Sith Lords use statues instead of paintings?"

Visas touched her hair nervously.  "I like my hair," she said shyly.  "Is it wrong that I'm using personal vanity to keep myself on the path of Light?"

"It's more than just vanity," Ludmilla explained.  "It's knowing that your appearance shows what you believe.  There are no ugly Jedi.  Even a Hutt would inspire faith and loyalty if one became a Jedi."

"And that's why there are no Hutts in the Order," grinned Bao-Dur.

"My skin would become ugly?  Really?"

Bao-Dur tried not to laugh.  "Yeah.  Mottled, pasty, coarse.  Like cheap leather."

"And," said Visas even more nervously, "what about babies?"

"I'm pretty sure Sith don't have babies," mused Ludmilla.  "At least, I've never heard of them.  I suppose, if they had a whole empire, they would.  Eventually."

"Excuse me," said a Sith Assassin, decloaking right next to Ludmilla.  "Are you serious about the hair thing?  And the babies?"

Ludmilla, completely unsurprised by his presence, nodded.  "Well, have you ever seen any Sith mothers?  The more you rely on the Dark Side, the more your body reflects it."

"I have to go talk to my girlfriend."

Another assassin decloaked.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"They'll just assume I died," the first assassin shrugged.  "Assuming anyone survives long enough to wonder.  I'm going to get Rasa and get out of here.  I don't want her to turn into an ugly, hairless skank."

"Good man," said Ludmilla approvingly, and the first assassin ran off.

The second assassin looked at her.  "What kind of Jedi are you?"

"The kind that survives," she grinned.  "How about you?"

The second assassin sighed.  "That idiot couldn't fly a ship out of a paper bag."

Bao-Dur shook his head.  "You'd better go after him."

The assassin looked curiously at Ludmilla, who still hadn't drawn a weapon.  "Right...  I'll just get going then."  He dropped his mask and ran after his friend.

Bao-Dur laughed, but didn't say anything.

"What?" Ludmilla exclaimed.  "It's not my fault he cares more about his girlfriend's looks than power."

"Right," Bao-Dur agreed.  "You're glowing again."

"Atton wants three kids."

"Canderous just wants a boy and a girl."

"Women," Bao-Dur muttered.  "Here's the entrance."

They stood in front of the open door.  "Soo..." said Ludmilla calmly.  "I guess we should pull out our weapons before we join the party."

"Did it just get colder?" asked Bao-Dur.  "I hate the cold."

"Another reason not to turn to the Dark Side, then," Ludmilla grinned, and drew her lightsaber before she entered the ruins.

 

Atton walked into Kreia's room, carrying two steaming mugs.  "Hey, I thought Mical was in here, taking more lessons on how to be a snooty Jedi."  Atton grinned mischievously, and handed her the mug of chocolate.  "Chocolate?"

"Thank you, boy.  Your dog is roaming around the garage, fixing his lightsaber."

"Thanks," Atton walked out to find Mical.  The door was still open, and Canderous was setting up perimeter security around the Ebon Hawk.  Atton leaned against the door.  "Where's Mira?"

"Setting traps on the approach," grunted Canderous.

"Have you seen Mical?"

"He was checking the turret."

"Oh."  Atton watched the Mandalorian work.

"You could help," said Canderous, grinning.  "Or at least take off your clothes."

Atton laughed.  "I – what is that?"  A pollen-covered butterfly floated just over Canderous' head, and started flying away.  "No way," said Atton, as he set down the mug of coffee.  "I thought this place was a desert!"  He jumped down, and vaulted easily over the wall after the butterfly.

"Hey!"  Canderous shouted.  "What are you doing?"

"I'll be right back!  It can't be far from here."  Atton ran quickly, keeping close to the bright purple butterfly, and it led him to a perfectly arranged garden oasis, nestled invisibly among the rocks.  Atton stared at the barely controlled riot of flowers and herbs, and dashed forward at the sight of a crest of peculiar stalks.  "Sugarcane!  I have to bring her some!"

"You're welcome to whatever you like," said a voice just behind him.

Atton whirled around, and saw a ghostly form hovering there.  His first thought wasn't fear, it was a touch of envy.  "Is this your garden?  Well, was."

The ghost smiled.  "My beloved lord made this garden for me.  We tended it together, and spent many wonderful hours here."

"You don't look – or sound – much like a Sith."  Atton looked curiously at the ghostly form.  "Also, Sith gardeners?  That just seems odd."

The ghost laughed, and sat down on a stone bench set just under an arbor made of the most beautiful climbing flowers that Atton had ever seen.  "Oh, don't be deceived.  I was a true Sith when I lived.  Not a very brutal one," the ghost looked down and laughed slightly.  "I was too vain to give myself wholly to the Dark Side."

"Oh, the whole eyes thing."

"Yes," the ghost said softly, "and it was always very important to me that my beloved lord looked at me with desire."  The ghost looked at Atton.  "But one day, I exposed my true power, and he looked at me differently for the first time."

"What happened?" asked Atton slowly.

The ghost leaned back against the arbor.  "Fools, seeking to displace my beloved lord, sought to kill him when they thought he was at his weakest – thinking that I posed no threat.  I killed them all," the ghost shrugged.  "I was very angry at the time.  I do not need to explain to you what it looks like when an angry Sith kills those who have angered him?"

Atton shook his head, and the ghost continued.

"But my beloved lord was disturbed at the show of my power.  It had never occurred to him that I was a threat, and he was too much of a Sith to consider that I had only acted out of love for him."

Atton was silent.

The ghost shrugged.  "I assured him of my loyalty with words, and came here the next day."  The ghost gently touched a bush with bright green leaves and berries the color of old blood.  "If he would not believe my words, I felt that I had to prove my loyalty with my actions.  I made myself a little drink, and lay down to think over the best moments of my life."  The ghost looked up at Atton.  "And at the last, he finally came, and found me just in time to apologize bitterly.  He begged me to stay with him, but it was too late."  The ghost sighed sadly.  "All that was good in him died as well, and he became one of the most powerful and brutal Sith Lords the galaxy has ever known.  But all he wanted was me, and our lovely garden," the ghost spread out his arms, "and he knew that it was his own fault.  He died, and was buried in his tomb, but could not leave it so long as he remained tied to the Dark Side.  Just as I could not leave my garden to go to him.  Not until," the ghost smiled softly, "someone convinced him to forgive himself could he free himself and return to the Light."  The ghost looked at Atton again.  "Do you know the difference between the Light and the Dark?"

Atton frowned at the ghost.  "I'm not discussing philosophy with you."

The ghost smiled.  "It is not only the choices that you make, but the reasons that you make them.  Sacrifice and conquest are two sides of the same coin."

"That's great.  I'm going to take some sugarcane and go."

"You are welcome to take whatever you find here."

Atton knelt down by the thick stalks, and carefully broke off all the ripest ones to bring back to the ship.  "I don't believe you," he said suddenly, knowing that the ghost was still there, waiting.  "I don't believe that he would have come to you.  Not after he looked at you like that."  Atton brushed at his face, pretending that he wasn't wiping away an angry tear.  "And if he did, then why are you still here?"

The ghost looked at the valley, where the sun was starting to fall.  "He should be here any moment now.  Apologizing again, and trying to convince me to leave with him."  The ghost smiled, and Atton could sense the mischievousness from the spirit.  "I like to make him grovel.  I was a Sith, remember?"  The ghost laughed again.  "I will go with him, eventually."

Atton carefully tied the stalks together before putting them away in a bag.  "Not everyone is like that."

"No," the ghost agreed.  "But I suppose it would take a little longer than a day to figure out whether they are or not.  Ah!" The ghost stood suddenly, lighting up with joy so intense that Atton could feel it.  "He's here!"

"I guess I should leave," said Atton quietly.

"If you wish," said the ghost.  "I'm sure you can find better things to do."

Atton walked out of the beautiful garden, and felt something brush against him as he passed through the sheltering rocks that hid the entrance.  He looked in surprise, but couldn't see anything.

"Is that who you were waiting for?" he heard someone ask in a deep voice, gravelly and warm.  But he still couldn't see anything.

"Yes," said the ghost, his arms around the other's neck, and he laid his head on the other's shoulder.

"Are you done, then?  Can we leave now?" the voice asked softly.

"So impatient," the ghost laughed, and kissed the other.

Atton suddenly realized why he couldn't see the other ghost, and walked away.  He easily climbed over the wall again, but there was no sign of Canderous or anyone else.  He walked into the ship, and looked around.

Goto floated up to him.  "There you are," Goto snapped.  "The others went looking for you."

"Why?" said Atton innocently.  "I said I'd be right back.  Let me go put these away."

"Wait," snapped Goto, but Atton was already running down to the galley.  "Irritating."  Goto went to the communications room, and bounced angrily in surprise as the ship powered down.  "What is he doing?"

Atton walked back upstairs.  "Oops.  I think the switch is in the pilot's room."

Goto made a noise of irritation and entered Atton's old quarters, now covered with Mira's clothing.  "Where is it?  Ah, there," the droid floated to the panel on the wall, and opened it.  The resulting shock shorted out the droid completely, and Goto dropped to the floor, stunned.

Atton reached over, and pulled out some more wires, crippling the Ebon Hawk.  T3 buzzed up to him, and chirped questioningly.

"Lock the ship after I leave, T3.  Don't let anyone back on board unless Ludmilla is with them, understand?"

T3 beeped questioningly.

"Not without her.  No one.  Not even me," said Atton grimly.  He put the components that he had removed in one of the many smuggling caches hidden all over the Ebon Hawk.  "You can tell her where they are when she gets back."

T3 clicked and whistled another question.

Atton sighed.  "Look, there are two things on this ship the Sith want: Kreia and the ship's navigation computer.  They can't have them."

T3 beeped again.

"Yeah, well, by this time, they already have her."

T3 squealed in panic.

"I'm going to try."  Atton sighed.  "Sorry for all the times I yelled at you, little guy."  Atton picked up the broken mug from the top of the ramp, and set it on the workbench.  "I gotta get going."  He walked down the ramp, and waited for T3 to seal the ship before he started running, hoping he was still in time.


	36. Charms and Tokens, pt.8

The Sith Marauder circled warily, trying to find a weak spot in the Jedi's defense.  The Jedi cut down another Assassin easily, his lighstsabers flashing in the dying light, his brown robes swirling around him as he fought.  The Mandalorian and the rust-colored droid continued shooting down the Grenadiers who should have been providing support to the Dark Jedi, while the red-haired woman launched grenades of her own into the scattered Sith at the mouth of the Valley.  The Marauder snarled beneath his mask.  What should have been a simple trap, an easy catch, had gotten more of his men killed than he had lost all year.

He charged again, testing the Jedi's skill one more time, but fell back before the flurry of blades.  The Marauder swore under his breath.  He couldn't fail, not again.  He had to bring this Jedi to his Master, alive or dead.  He blinked suddenly, at the sudden wisp of a shadow just behind the Jedi.  The Jedi took advantage of his momentary distraction, pressed the attack, and the Marauder had to use all his skill to stay alive.  The Sith fell back again, and the Jedi and his companions withdrew slightly, regrouping.

Suddenly, the Jedi staggered and fell, his lightsabers wrenched out of his hands by the shadowy figure that had appeared out of nowhere.  Before his companions could react, the figure had deactivated the lightsabers, dropping them at the stunned Jedi's side, and had drawn a pair of blasters, leveling one at the Jedi's head and the other at the girl with the grenades.

"Don't tempt me.  You know how much I really want to shoot you, Mira, but I'm supposed to bring you in alive."

"What?  You're a traitor?  You're a fucking Sith?" screamed Mira in rage.

The Mandalore froze, not certain what to do, for the first time in his life.

"HK.  Take their weapons.  Make sure you get all the lightsabers."

The droid's motors whirred, processing the command.    "Suggestion: Do not resist, Mandalorian."  Canderous didn't move, and the droid walked forward and took the heavy rifle from Canderous, then collected Mira's grenades and blasters, and the lightsabers from the ground near Atton's feet.  "Query: Is anything more necessary, Master?"

"Watch the Jedi.  I've waited a long time to do this."  Atton stepped forward, and slammed his blaster into the side of Mira's head, then drove his knee into her stomach as she fell to the ground unconscious.  "Skank."

"I thought – you're the one who repaired HK?  I thought you didn't know anything about droids," said Canderous, stunned and disbelieving.

"Still a master of the art of deception, I see," said the Sith Marauder slowly, as he pulled off his mask.  He gestured to his men.  "Bind them."

Atton glared at him.  "And you're still slow and clumsy.  I didn't realize you needed them gift-wrapped before you could bring them in."  Atton glanced at the soldiers tying Mical's arms together.  "Careful with that."

"Are you planning something special for this Jedi?" asked the Sith Marauder, as he slowly walked up to Atton.  "I hope we get to watch.  You have no idea how dull the torture sessions are these days," he said slowly, his dark yellow eyes taking in every line of Atton's body.  "I'd forgotten how beautiful you are," he said hoarsely.

Atton glanced at him from under his eyelashes.  "This counts as my catch, by the way.  Not yours."

"Of course," the Marauder agreed.  "It will be worth the punishment to have you back again."

One of the soldiers tried to take the weapons that HK was holding, and Atton moved, striking the man so hard that he staggered backwards, a bright red mark appearing across his face where Atton's hand had struck him.

"Do not touch," hissed Atton fiercely.  "Those are my trophies."

"Come now, he's just a fool.  Leave him alone," said the Marauder soothingly.  "Please don't start killing my men."

"You know how much I hate working with people," said Atton viciously.

Instead of answering, the Marauder took Atton's hands, and raised them to his lips, kissing the backs of Atton's hands, then his slender, elegant fingers, and finally the inside of Atton's seemingly frail wrists.  By the time he was done, the Sith soldiers were done putting restraints on Mical and Canderous, and tying Mira's unconscious form to a stretcher.

"I suppose we should get going," said Atton.  His voice sounded bored, but there was a quiver of dark excitement in his words.  "That is, if you're done making love to my hands."

"Never," said the Marauder passionately.  "But yes, we should be going.  This planet is very unwelcoming after dark."

"Really?" Atton looked curiously up at the Sith, who was the same height and breadth as Mical, but had dark hair and skin.  "I've met some interesting ghosts here," Atton smiled in a very wicked way, and pulled his hands away.  "They talk about the most unusual things."  He laughed, and followed the soldiers, occasionally using HK to support himself over the uneven terrain, not sparing a single glance for the obviously infatuated Sith, or a word for his former companions.

Canderous looked at Atton, then at Mical.  Once he had thrown off the effects of Atton's blow, Mical had pressed his lips together in a hard line.  He hadn't looked at Atton at all, or even acknowledged his presence.  Canderous looked at Mira, lying still and quiet on the stretcher, then at Atton again.  The Mandalore chuckled to himself, and the guard next to him looked at him sharply.

"What are you laughing at?" snarled the Sith guard.

Canderous answered with a string of vicious oaths in Mandalorian.

The guard raised a hand to strike the bound prisoner, and tumbled over, a gleaming knife in his throat.

Canderous burst into open laughter.  "If I'm annoying enough, you'll run out of guards before we get to wherever we're going."  The Mandalore glanced at Mical.  "And I can be really annoying."

The Sith Marauder sighed, and gave stern commands to his men to stay away from the Mandalorian.

"Could you get that for me?" Atton pointed at his knife, and a guard quickly ran forward to return the knife to Atton.  "Thank you."  He wiped it clean and the knife disappeared again.

Canderous grinned, and continued being irritating to the guards, but only got two more killed before they approached the entrance of a tomb.  "We're going in here?" Canderous looked at his captors.  "I try to avoid tombs if I'm not dead.  It's a Mandalorian thing.  You wouldn't understand, seeing as how you're all filthy grave-robbing vermin."

The nearest Sith gritted her teeth in frustration, but knew better by now than to try to chastise the prisoner.

"The tomb connects to the remains of the Academy," explained the Marauder, moving to the door to unlock the seals, using the Force to activate the controls.

"Whose tomb is this?" asked Canderous curiously.

"This is the tomb of the Sith Lord Ludo Kressh, but don't worry, we won't be disturbing any relics."

"Hunh," Canderous grunted, "I've always thought that Sith Lords were ludicrous, but this is the first time I've ever heard a Sith say so."

Mical coughed, almost shocked into a laugh by Canderous, and the Sith Marauder glared at the Mandalorian.

"What?  You two are friends.  I'm sure he wouldn't try to kill you for playing with his toys."  Canderous smiled, and the Sith Marauder turned away to finish unsealing the tomb.  Canderous snickered cruelly.

The tomb opened, and the Sith led them into a secret hallway.  They emerged in the remains of the Sith Academy, in what appeared to be a dining hall.

"Take them to the interrogation room," commanded the Marauder.

"And where are you going?" asked Atton sharply.

"I'm going to find my Master and report that the mission was a success."

Atton rolled his eyes, and flung himself into a chair.  "Fine, whatever, ruin all my fun."

The Sith stood still, watching Atton as he gracefully sprawled in the chair, tapping his elegant foot petulantly.  "You had a different idea?"

Atton looked at him.  "It involved me having fun," he grinned, "not me sitting around listening to some pompous, lazy ass Sith Lord yell at you, and then take my prisoners away."

"Good point."  The Marauder considered.  "Perhaps you are right.  It would be more useful if I presented him with the information he requires."

"Of course I'm right," snapped Atton.  "Please tell me you have a decent interrogation room."

The Sith laughed.  "It's more like training wheels.  Remember, this was part of the Academy, not a fortress or anything."

Atton sighed in disappointment.  "So, it's what?  Cages and a console?  No tables?  No knives?"

The Marauder shook his head sadly.  "I'm afraid not."

Atton stood slowly.  "How are you supposed to work under such conditions?  Where's the fun in pushing a button?  How," he said softly, carefully not looking at the Sith Marauder, and fully aware that everyone in the room was watching him, "can you ever form a connection without that personal touch?"  Atton stepped away from the table, seeming not to notice how close he was to the Sith, seemingly still lost in his own question.  "How do you get to that point where your… companion… kisses your hand in gratitude when the pain stops?"  Atton looked up at the Sith, questioning.

"I am sure," said the Sith, carefully lifting one of Atton's hands to his lips again, "that you, of all people, will find a way."  He gently kissed the tips of Atton's fingers.

Atton smiled in pleasure, as if noticing him for the first time.  "Oh, now you flatter me?  I thought you had to find something.  Something important, wasn't that right, Perten?  Something more important than me?"

The Sith's eyes fell, then he raised them to Atton's beautiful face again with a smile.  "I was mistaken.  I found that I had all that I needed."

"I see," Atton smiled, and pulled his hand away.  "Isn't there work we should be doing?  Before the scary Sith Lord interrupts us?"

"Of course."  He gestured, and the Sith guards dragged the prisoners into the interrogation room, and threw Canderous into a force cage.

"Oh, he bounces!"  Atton laughed.  "That was cool.  Be more careful with the Jedi, though."

"Yes, sir," said the guards, and locked Mical in the next cage, then laid Mira on the floor of another.

The cold woke Mira, and she blinked and slowly staggered to her feet.  "You goddamned Sith fucker!  I hate you!  I've always hated you!  I've never trusted you, not from the first day I met you."

"Oh, Mira, Mira, you're so cute when you're angry."  Atton leaned back, seemingly unaware that he was leaning on one of the consoles.  "Oh, oops," said Atton, as the torture cage activated, sending waves of pain through Mira.  "Sorry."

She screamed in agony, then collapsed to the floor sobbing.  "You bastard!" she screamed.

"What?" smiled Atton innocently.  "I said I was sorry!  Here, let me – oops.  Damn," grinned Atton again as another wave ripped through her.  Mira fell again, unconscious.  "My bad."

The gathered Sith laughed, and Atton stepped away from the console.  Mical continued to stare in stony silence, and Canderous started singing a song in Mandalorian.

"I hate Mandalorians," hissed the Sith Marauder.  He walked up to the cage holding Canderous and glared at him.  "You and your people destroyed everything."

"Will of the Force," Canderous grinned.

"You dare!"  He slammed his hand on the console, and the cage sparked with waves of painful energy.  Canderous flinched, but did not scream, despite the pain.  "You dare to speak of the Force!  We will wipe the Mandalorians from the galaxy!  No one will remember you, or sing your ridiculous battle songs!"

"Ludicrous," Canderous corrected.  "Isn't that the word of the day?"  Another wave of shocking pain dropped him to his knees, but he still didn't cry out.

"Beast," the Sith hissed.  "Unthinking, mindless beast."  Canderous was breathing hard, and didn't answer.  The Sith looked at Mical.  "And you, Jedi.  To travel with a monster like this?  Have you no memory of the past?  Of their atrocities?"

Mical looked curiously at the Sith, but didn't answer.

"Speak!"  The Sith stepped forward, then paused suddenly.  He looked at the cages again.  "Why is one empty?" he asked suddenly.

"Sir?"

Mical blinked in surprise, and Canderous choked back a laugh.

"Did we get everyone?" he asked in confusion.

"I believe so, sir," said the guard uncertainly.  "I don't remember anyone else."

"There was someone – there was," the Sith insisted, trying to remember.  He turned around, then looked back at the cages.  "We missed someone."

There was the distinctive sound of a lightsaber, then the blade appeared, brilliant yellow – almost golden – emerging from the Sith's chest.  He made a single shocked noise, then the lighstaber ripped him in half and the body fell to the floor.  Before anyone could react, Atton had moved again, his lightsaber flashing brightly, cutting down hapless Sith.

One of them, with slightly more presence of mind than the others, ran to the door.  She touched the control panel, and electricity arced from it, sending her flying with a shocked scream.  She hit one of the force cages, and died instantly, falling lifeless to the floor.

Meanwhile, Atton had continued killing the guards in the room.  When they were all dead, he opened the door to the hallway.  Atton looked down the hall, and swore under his breath.  "HK."

"Acknowledgment: Yes, Master?"

Atton took the weapons away from the droid, leaving only the droid's own heavy weapon.  "That hallway is filled with Dark Jedi."

"Statement: Your grasp of the obvious is superb, as always, Master."

"Dark Jedi that have disobeyed the will of Revan."

The droid's head swiveled to focus on Atton, and the red eyes glowed balefully.  "Statement:  Then they must be eliminated."  Something whirred, and HK's shields seemed to change color.  "Update: Configuration corrected.  Update: Primary target type altered."  The droid stalked out of the room, and a chorus of panicked screams and angry shouts erupted from the hallway, along with the sound of bodies crashing against the walls and falling to the floor.

Atton set the weapons down on a table, then ran over to the control console.  The cages opened, and Canderous jumped out, grabbed his weapon, and joined HK in killing the Dark Jedi in the hallway beyond.  Mical raced over to Mira, and gently woke her.

"Ugh, what hit me?  Oh, those damned Sith.  I hate torture cages," she moaned, and staggered to her feet.  "What's going on?  Where's Canderous?"

"He and HK are clearing our path.  Stay here," Mical commanded, "I'm going to go help them."

"What?  Hell, no, I can fight.  It just hurts, I'm not gonna die from it."  Mira picked up her blasters and grenades, tossed Mical his lightsabers.  She forced herself to walk to the door.  "You coming?"

"One moment," said Mical vaguely, looking down at his lightsabers.

"I'm going to go help Canderous before he gets himself killed, the big dumb lummox."  Mira staggered into the hallway, and added grenade explosions to the noises of combat.

Mical looked around slowly.  "No, this isn't right."  He stood up, and looked around again.  He raised his hand, trying to think, and brushed his lips.  "Atton," he said in shock, and glanced around the room.  "Atton!  M'adouin, where are you?" he cried desperately, suddenly understanding Ludmilla's wild fears.  "Oh, M'adouin, don't do this, don't do this to me," he begged, falling to his knees in despair.  "M'adouin.  Please."  He looked around the room again, hoping against hope, and from the corner of his eye, saw a crumpled form lying in the corner.  "M'adouin!"

Mical rushed over to him, and knelt down beside the still form.  "M'adouin," he gasped.  Atton hadn't escaped unscathed from the combat with the Sith – the poisoned blades had left cuts on his arms, his chest, and along his side.  "And you still hid from me?  Oh, M'adouin, why?"  Mical pulled him into his arms.  "Why?"  He kissed him, sensed that Atton was wounded badly, suffering more from the poison than the cuts of the blades.  Mical concentrated, forcing the poison to become innocuous and fade from Atton's body, encouraging the wounds to heal and close.  He felt Atton stir slightly, take a deep breath, coughing a little.  "M'adouin!"  He pressed his lips to Atton's again before he could pull away.

Atton whimpered gently in protest, and tried to push Mical away.  Mical pulled him closer still, putting both arms around Atton.  "M'adouin," he said hoarsely, the sound of tears in his voice, "I thought I had lost you."

"Let me go," Atton protested weakly.  "You don't – you can't – not now.  You can't," he repeated, but Mical ignored him, and lifted Atton in his arms.  "Mical," Atton moaned miserably, "don't.  Don't do this to me, you don't mean it.  Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying," said Mical softly.  "I'm very foolish, I know."  He kissed Atton's forehead.  "Just rest, M'adouin.  You've done enough for now."  Mical kissed him again as Atton slumped against him, unable or unwilling to protest any longer.  "You saved us."


	37. Wrath, pt.3

"How many of these things are there?" snapped Ludmilla in disgust.

Bao-Dur chuckled gently.  "Which, General?  The Sith Assassins or the tu'kata?"

"Both," she snarled, whirling suddenly to block the blow of another assassin that decloaked behind her.  "Where are they coming from?"

"More importantly, how are we going to get out of here?"

"There must be a way to unlock the door," Visas protested.  "After all, they intend to get out, don't they?"  She fought another pair of the attacking beasts that infested the abandoned Sith Academy.  "I don't like tu'katas," she confessed.  "They smell bad."

"Agreed," said Bao-Dur.  "General, which way?"

"I don't know!" Ludmilla protested.  "Here, this way, this looks unlocked."  She kicked open the door, snapping the half-ruined door from its hinges.  The door opened into a large room with a series of cages.

"Oh, great, more tu'kata."  Ludmilla looked in disgust at the cages.  "Why are they locked up like that?"

"These must be the ones they were training," said Bao-Dur.  He checked the console.  "Let me see….  Oh, hell."

"What?" said Visas nervously.

The cages slid open, and the tu'kata charged at them.

"Oh.  That."

"Sorry," muttered Bao-Dur.  "That doesn't normally happen."

Ludmilla grinned.  They fought off the tu'katas easily, and the console beeped.  "What is that?"

Bao-Dur walked back to the console, and broke into a laugh.  "It says we failed the test, and that we should report to the detention room for punishment immediately."  They heard a door slide open in the distance.

Ludmilla laughed.  "That must be that other door we couldn't open!  I knew we should trust in the Force.  Come on!"  She ran back down the hallway to the final room they hadn't been able to enter.  It was a sparse, bare room, containing a single cage.  Ludmilla stared at the bloody form lying at the bottom of the cage.  "What?"

Bao-Dur looked at the brown robes.  "Is that Master Vash?"

Ludmilla nodded silently, and continued staring at the body in shock.

"General?"

"Yes?"  She didn't turn to face him, still wrapped up in trying to figure out how – or if – she had really failed.

"Do you have a minute?"

Ludmilla shook herself, throwing off the weight of the universe for a moment.  She could tell he needed to talk.  "Always, old man.  What's up?"

"I know this doesn't seem like the best time, but – I just wanted to thank you.  For everything.  You keep me calm.  All the anger and hatred I've carried around for the Mandalorians, and the war, and all the bad, unfair things that happened – you've helped me deal with it.  And – I think I've finally come to terms with Malachor.  For what it's worth, thank you."

Ludmilla smiled slowly at him, grateful and pleased.  She held out her hands to him, and he clasped them firmly.  "Bao-Dur, I'm glad if I could help you with any of it, even a little.  I'm glad you don't blame me – or yourself – for what happened at Malachor anymore."

"I never blamed you, General."

"You should have," she said softly, but Bao-Dur shook his head.

"No, General," he said firmly.  He looked down at the body of the Jedi Master on the floor of the cage again.  "It had to be done – and it was best that it fell to people like you and me to do what needed to be done."

Ludmilla smiled sadly.  "I guess you're right.  What brought this on, old man?"

"My hands destroyed the Mandalorians.  I killed hundreds of thousands, and I did it out of hatred.  I know it was the right thing to do, and the only way to stop the war, but that's not why I did it.  I don't want that to be my legacy – not anymore."

Ludmilla raised an eyebrow in question.

Bao-Dur sighed.  "Besides, General, I get the feeling you're going to need all the Jedi you can get in a very short time."  He looked at her.  "If you want to teach me, I'm willing to learn."

Visas tilted her head in confusion.  "You can't just make him a Jedi right now, can you?"

"To tell the truth, she's been working on making me a Jedi ever since she met me.  I just never took that last step."  He smiled at her.  "But now seems like the right time."  He grinned at the joy radiating from her.  "And here, I thought only Atton could make you glow like that."

"I'm happy!" she exclaimed.  "The Force gave me what I really wanted."  She smiled, unable to hide her joy.

Visas felt the Force between them surge, the bond between Master and student forming, and Bao-Dur's aura turned to a soft blue.  "Another Guardian!" she exclaimed.

Bao-Dur smiled, and Ludmilla smiled back at him.  He looked away for a moment, and noticed a datapad near the body of the dead Jedi Master.  "Hey, General, look here."  He walked over, and handed her the pad.

Ludmilla took it silently, and began reading quickly.

"Anything good, General?"

"Bad news: She was caught by the same Sith Lord that destroyed Peragus."  Ludmilla looked up.  "Good news: She left a command to open a secret back door under an account in the system with her own name."

Bao-Dur rushed over to the console, and started working.  "Got it, General."  They heard rumbling, and then they all looked at each other.  "What is that?  I can feel – something.  Someone."

Ludmilla looked around.  "There's the door, quick!"  Part of the wall was sliding away, revealing an exit.  She knelt down, and pulled a lightsaber from the corpse.  "Take this," she tossed it to Bao-Dur.  "Let's go!"  She pointed Visas towards the door, and let her go first, then watched as Bao-Dur entered the secret passage.  Ludmilla stepped back, and pressed the button to close the door again.

"What?  General!  What are you doing?"

"Go," she shouted as the door slid shut.  "That's an order!  I'll meet you back at the ship."

"General!"

"Ludmilla!"

The door slammed shut.  "I didn't come all this way to fail," Ludmilla said to herself.  She walked over to the console, and sliced it in half with one swift blow of her lightsaber.  "And I didn't make you into a Jedi just to lose you to a Sith Lord."  She walked out of the detention room, and walked to the central room.

"Did you come here looking for answers?"  The Sith Lord's voice was a deep, bass rumble.  If she closed her eyes, ignored the evil rolling off him in waves, she could have said the voice was attractive.  "The call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the dead.  Is that why you came here?  To hear the voices of the dead?"  His chest was bare, covered in scars and decaying flesh that healed itself as quickly as it died while she watched.  He was holding his lightsaber casually, just as she was holding hers.  They were of similar height and build – muscular, built for war and all the things that accompany it.  But while she was still young for her years and beautiful as only those of the Light can be, he was being consumed by the Dark side, and it showed – everywhere, except for his one remaining eye.

"Your eyes are brown," murmured Ludmilla in surprise.  "Where – " she tried to remember where she had seen them before.

The Sith Lord didn't seem to hear her, and went on.  "I have studied you.  Read of your battles and your failures.  You are weak," he sneered, "a failure and a weakling.  And yet she still clings to you – treasures you, as if you were all that could give her pathetic life meaning."  She could hear hatred and jealousy in his voice.

Ludmilla blinked in surprise.  "Who are you talking about?"

"The old one," he snarled.  "Who else could I be speaking of?"

Ludmilla stared.  "Kreia?  How do you know Kreia?"

"I know her as an apprentice knows his Master – and as a Master knows his apprentice."

"What?"  She stared at him in disbelief.  "Kreia was – your Master?"

"All that we know of evil, we learned from the old one.  And she has not taught us half of what she knows.  She brought us to the dark places of the galaxy.  She opened our minds to our true power.  She held us – and the entire galaxy – by the throat, and she crushed us to her will.  But we rose against her," Sion said triumphantly, "turned her own teachings against her.  We stripped her of her power and left her helpless and powerless," he gloated.  "We cast her out and made the galaxy our own."

"Really," said Ludmilla calmly.  "Because the last time you went up against her, she lost a hand but still walked away.  Besides, what would a Sith Lord – such as you claim Kreia to be – want from me?"

The Sith Lord snarled in fury.  "She clings to hope.  She desires to train another as great as her first – or greater.  And then her final plan for us all will be revealed."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "Kreia?  A Sith?  That's just silly."

"She is a fool," Sion raged, "a meddling old hag who has escaped death too many times.  She will not do so again."

"Okay," she confessed, "that does sound like Kreia.  So what do you want with her?"

"I want her to die!" Sion shouted.  "I will destroy all that she holds dear, cast it down in shards at her feet.  All her dreams, I will shatter – all her hopes, I will crush – and you – her precious student that she would sacrifice so much to protect – you, who have not survived her teachings as I have – you, who has never bested her in combat as I have – you, who she treasures and respects – you, I will cast your lifeless body before her and laugh at her pain!"  The Sith Lord activated his lightsaber, and Ludmilla couldn't stop herself from thinking that it was a rather pretty shade of red.

She shook herself, and activated her lightsaber in response.

"You are nothing," said Sion, shaking with rage and jealousy, "yet she still walks with you, is willing to sacrifice herself for you!"

"I didn't ask for her protection," said Ludmilla softly.  "But she helped me, when I needed her aid.  So I'm not going to abandon her now – or ever."

"You do not know her as I do!"  Sion circled her slowly, his blade held cautiously.  "I have studied you, trying to find what it is that she sees in you.  I have seen the paths you walked in your exile, through the filth and the blasted places of the Far Rim.  I have seen the death you left in your wake.  I have seen what you did to Dxun while the Republic died around you, how you pulled victory from the bloodied, smoking ashes of a ruined world.  You know war.  You know battle."

Years of practice enabled Ludmilla to hear his words without flinching, and she settled herself into a guarding stance as she warily watched Sion.

"But you do not let it touch you."  Sion looked curiously at her.  "Even at Malachor – the heart of the war – you saw what Malachor wrought, yet you turned away from it.  Walked away untouched.  You refused to put your hands on the power it offered you.  Weak," he snarled again.  "A wretched thing, fearful and weak.  You are nothing!  You are no fit apprentice to her, and I am the only true Master!"  The Sith Lord attacked, suddenly, explosively.  "Weak," he repeated again as he slammed his lightsaber into hers, "You are weak, and that is why you will die."

Ludmilla didn't bother to answer his jealous ravings, and concentrated on guarding against his flurry of furious attacks.  She shifted forms to meet his attacks, gliding smoothly from one stance to another, carefully studying his style.  He was very good – a duelist of the old style, and a true Weapon Master.  Despite herself, she grinned in delight.  It had been a long time since she'd crossed blades with someone who was a true challenge.  "Sword and glory," she chanted, shifting her stance to attack, "blade and fame."

"You dare?" snarled Sion, trying to sweep her off her guard, but she moved too fast, using the rubble and uneven terrain to her advantage.

"Honor, battle, clan and name," Ludmilla sang, using a rock to launch herself into the air, arcing over Sion's head.  He didn't lose her, and blocked her aerial attack, but staggered forward, tripping over some rubble.  She landed cleanly, still singing, and followed up while he was still off-balance.  "Keep tradition, win the fight!"  She rained blows down on him, almost completely breaking down his guard, and he retreated before her furious attacks.  "Sword and glory, mask and might!"

Sion dodged just a little too slowly, and her lightsaber severed his sword arm from his body.  With an anguished scream, he staggered back.

In horror, Ludmilla watched as his arm slowly rose from the floor, Dark energy pulsing between him and the severed limb – completely uncontrolled – and the arm began to reattach itself to the Sith Lord's body while he screamed in pain.

Ludmilla felt a gentle, almost shy touch at her mind.  "Child?"

She smiled.  "Oh, now you ask permission to spy on me?"

She could feel Kreia smile in response.  "If you are willing to listen to wisdom, child, then you should flee.  Sion cannot be defeated here – not on Korriban, where the Dark Side flows so strongly.  He is no longer flesh and blood.  This is not a battle that you can win."

"Now you tell me," Ludmilla muttered.  "Anything else I should know?"

"There will be another time," said Kreia soothingly, obviously mocking, and sent Ludmilla the image of another secret passage in the library.  "Now go!"

Ludmilla saw Sion stagger to his feet, his arm almost completely reattached, and she ran for the library before he could attack again.

She saw an assassin decloak just behind her, and dodged his blow.  To her surprise, the assassin fell – cut down by Sion's thrown lightsaber.  The Sith Lord was watching her, as if he had never seen her before.  His face was quiet and still beneath the maze of scars and he reached out, calling the lightsaber back to his hand.

"Do not harm her."

Stunned, Ludmilla backed into the library, unable to see Sion's remaining eye from her current vantage point, and thoroughly confused.

"My Lord?" said one of the invisible assassins from somewhere near the Sith Lord.

"Do not harm her," he repeated.  "I command it.  She – she has earned this."  The library doors began to close, locking out the Sith.  "She and I – we will meet again," said Sion softly.


	38. Angel's Touch

Ludmilla looked around again.  The tunnels here were a maze, and she was thoroughly lost.  She couldn't sense her companions, not even Kreia, only the scattered ghosts and the planet itself.  Finally, she found herself facing a huge door, beneath the statue of a Sith Lord.  "An unlooted tomb?"  Ludmilla reached out, and could sense why the door had remained closed all this time.  The door only responded to the Force, and would need a powerful Force user to activate it – one strong enough to touch the planet itself, without going insane.  Ludmilla grinned, and activated the door.

The tomb was musty and damp, the floor slimy with dead bugs and mold.  Beneath it all, she could sense a powerful presence – either a spirit, or possibly, just a manifestation of the Force emanating from the planet itself.  The presence acknowledged her with interest, and she walked down the hallway, crunching empty carapaces beneath the soles of her boots.

The hallway ended in a large chamber, where four young Jedi were listening intently to a Jedi in black and orange, bald despite his age, with blue tattoos decorating his scalp.

"Do not heed the words of the Jedi Council," he insisted fiercely.  "The Republic will fall if we do not act now!  Already, the Mandalorians have taken three systems on the Outer Rim, leaving nothing but scorched earth and blood in their wake."  The speaker met her eyes.  "You know them.  You know what they will do.  You know that they will only become more powerful the longer they are permitted to ravage the galaxy unchecked."

"Malak."  Ludmilla stared at her old friend as she remembered him, the day that he had recruited her into Revan's little army.

"Come, stand with me.  We will use our powers for good – to help the Republic in its time of need.  Revan and I – we need you.  We need people like you.  Together, we can defeat this menace."

Ludmilla found herself standing in the line of Jedi, listening to Malak plead for their support.

"The Jedi Council is wise, but how long can we wait?  Men and women are dying by the thousands while they deliberate over their course of action.  The Republic is being destroyed piece by piece while they debate the nature of the enemy.  We must act – now!  We must stop the Mandalorians!"  He looked at her again, and she straightened her shoulders just as she had all those years ago, refusing to shrink away or conceal her upbringing.

"Mandokarla," she snarled under her breath – usually the word was a compliment, from one Mandalorian to another.  But sometimes, being everything that made a Mandalorian a Mandalorian wasn't the easiest thing to hide.

"I have heard of you," he said slowly, looking directly at her for the first time.  "Your masters speak well of your skill in battle."  He held out his hand to her, strong and muscular like her own.  "Join us."  At the time, she had been so shocked at his action that she had taken his hand.  She had joined him, and her tight cadre of friends had joined her, forming the nucleus of Revan's most trusted inner circle.

"So this is what my subconscious does when I'm stressed and sober," Ludmilla mused to herself.  "Malak, did you know you're just a vision?"

Malak smiled.  "Are you going to wait for the blessings of the Council?  Or will you fight at Revan's side?  We are defending the defenseless.  Surely this means something to you?"

"I'd forgotten what a pompous ass you could be, Malak."  Ludmilla shook her head.

Cariaga Sin, one of the many Jedi who had died at her side, left the line and walked to stand next to Malak.  "The Council seems content to watch," Cariaga said despairingly.  "You saw them – the flood of refugees, desperate for someone to lead them, to protect.  They want to fight, to defend their homes.  How is that wrong?  What is there to discuss?"

"Entire systems are falling to the Mandalorians," said Malak sadly.  "Mothers without children, children without parents, forced to slave for their Mandalorian masters or to join them in destroying worlds just like their own.  If we don't act now, there may be no Republic left to assist in the future."

Ludmilla felt her chest tighten at the memory.  He hadn't used those words when he had recruited her.  He had learned them from her – from listening to her talk about her life growing up.

"I sense that you will join us," said Malak gently, again breaking from the paths of memory.  "What are your reasons?"

She looked at him in surprise.  "You know the reason, Malak.  You of all people know why.  The Council was taking too long.  We – I had to do it.  The Mandalorians were winning.  They were trying to find a way to destroy the Jedi Order forever.  A way to neutralize the Force."  She blinked in surprise at what she had just said.  "They tortured you – trying to find a way – to get rid of a Jedi's power over the Force."  She stared at him, and Talvon Esan walked over to stand with Malak.  He had died on Dxun, sacrificing himself so that Ludmilla and the others could carry out Revan's plan.

"You should trust in yourself – and in your instincts," smiled the Malak that wasn't.  "You knew it was within our power to end the war, but the Council chose to debate behind closed doors while planets burned and cities were turned to glass."

Try as she might.  Ludmilla couldn't stop herself from being angry when she thought of the fate of Eres III and Serroco.  If all the Jedi had acted as one, could they have stopped the Mandalorians without all the bloodshed and loss?  "How long were they going to wait?  They knew what they were up against.  Every day we waited, Mandalore the Ultimate found a new way to break the will of entire systems.  They weren't fighting a war anymore, they were terrorizing the galaxy into submission."  Nisotsa, the beautiful Twi'lek who had helped retake Taris from the Mandalorians, only to die of her wounds when they ran out of kolto, walked over to stand with Malak.

"Yes, without us, there would have been no Republic left to save.  The Council seemed to pride themselves on complete inaction.  For all their wisdom, they didn't realize that they were walking a path that led only to destruction – destruction greater than anything born of the Dark Side."

Ludmilla looked away, trying to figure out what her mind was trying to tell her, and why.

"So," Malak asked slowly, "if you could do it all over again, would you?  The Mandalorians wait on the edge of known space, eager to crush the Republic.  You know how this turns out.  Would you do anything differently?  Knowing all that it costs you, and what it costs the rest," Malak looked at the others standing with him, and Xaset Terep, the last Jedi, the one who had never trusted but who had died to save her, walked over to stand with Malak.  Malak looked at her again.  "Would you?"

Ludmilla looked at the line of dead friends and shook her head slowly.  "I wouldn't.  I don't think I could have made any other choice.  My actions made me what I am today, gave me the strength to survive – and something to live for."

Malak nodded with a slow smile.  "So, knowing all that would transpire, you would still follow Revan and I – I thought as much."  He looked around the room again.  "And now you are – alone.  Come, join us.  You didn't follow Revan and I all the way down our path, and we – we miss you, dear Ludmilla.  Your journey hasn't ended yet."  But this time, Malak didn't hold out his hand.

Ludmilla stared at him.  "You're not Malak now, are you?"  She looked at the line, and noticed an extra person.  A beautiful young Padawan who glowed with the Force, her long, dark hair bound up in elaborate braids.  "Wait – I know her.  She didn't join us – she wanted to wait for the wisdom of the Council.  She warned us that our impetuous nature would lead us to the Dark Side."  Ludmilla grinned at the memory.  "She was so young!"

The form of Malak smiled.  "No, she did not join us that day, did she?  But even then, she wavered – and wondered.  It is a familiar path.  There were many who wished to follow us – to follow you – to war, yet remained behind.  And they came to hate you for making the choices that they wished to make."

The memory made her frown.  "I never realized how much she hated me," Ludmilla mused.  "I suppose I should have expected it."  She looked up at Malak, and realized that he was still waiting for her answer.  "No, you know me.  You know me too well, as you pointed out.  I didn't follow you then – for a reason."

"And this reason?  You still hold it to be true?"

Ludmilla smiled gently.  "Rivers don't run backwards, Malak."

"Are you so very certain, Ludmilla?  Every step of the way, we did what we thought was right," he urged.  "Perhaps you were meant to walk this path as well."

She shook her head.  "If the Force wanted me to be a planet-destroying evil monster, I wouldn't have been shown all the good that a real Jedi can do."

"Then," said Malak sadly, "the time for words is over.  Now it is time for action.  It is time for you to see the true power of the Dark Side."

All five of the Jedi charged her, lightsabers flashing blue, green, yellow – and Malak's, a savage, angry red.  They used their Force powers freely, and the spirit of Malak used the Dark powers that she detested so much.  Ludmilla didn't even bother to draw her lightsaber.  She used the Force to fling the younger Jedi away, then dropped Malak to the ground with a savage kick to his midsection.  "Jedi blades, Republic maids, always light and usually easy, lift a skirt and dodge the hurt," she sang, as she dealt out punishing blows to the Jedi shades attacking her.

"I never liked those songs," Malak growled.  "It just smacks of disrespect for your enemies, and seriously, how many of those are there?  You always have one, no matter who you're fighting."

Ludmilla laughed, hurling the ghost of Nisotsa into a wall.  "Mandalorians like to sing.  Before they were corrupted into becoming the great enemies of the universe, there were as many song masters among the Mandalorians as there were weapon masters."  She dropped Xaset with a lightning-fast flurry of punches, then dodged Cariaga's lightsaber.  "Besides, music is universal.  Even if you don't know the words," she broke Cariaga's arm, then drove her fist into her throat, "you can feel the rhythm."  The last of the Jedi fell, leaving her face to face with Malak, and she finally drew her lightsaber.

"Please tell me you're not going to sing," sighed Malak wearily.

"Sith are bloody, Sith are mean," she sang, and dodged Malak's Force attack, "their blades are red, their blades are keen."  She blocked his lightsaber, and fell back a step before his wild attack.  "Stay out of range, or you'll be bitten," she slipped under his guard, and sliced open his chest, leaving a bloody and ugly wound.  "Make them angry – save a kitten."  Malak rolled his eyes at the final words of her song as he slid to the floor, and all the shades dissipated.

A door opened behind where Malak had been speaking, and Ludmilla walked out of the room into the hallway beyond.  It opened to the last place she had expected to see again – the jungles of Dxun.

Commander Wolt ran up to her.  "Comm says we've lost another heavy droid transport!  How can we break through their lines without support?  This place is mined to hell, and the Mandalorians are everywhere.  I know we've got orders to press forward, but we're at a quarter of our strength!  We can't do this, General.  It's impossible.  We need to fall back, regroup."

In reality, it had taken much longer for Wolt to give her all that information.  She had interrupted him constantly, trying to ascertain the exact extent of their losses, people were running in and out of the room with maps and datapads.  But none of it was important.  The only thing that had mattered was that she had already sacrificed over half of her men to get to this point, and if she turned back now, then it would all be lost.  They would have died for nothing, the battle would have been lost, and the war.  "I had no choice," she said bitterly.

Wolt met her eyes.  "But we can't help anyone by throwing our lives away."  He looked at the path.  "There are too many of them, and too few of us.  We'll never make it, General.  They'll go if you ask them to, but you can't.  You can't possibly ask the troops to go forward."

Ludmilla stared at the grass, thinking.  She had promised Revan that this would be done.  She knew that Revan was waiting to hear that they had flanked the base before launching the final attack.  She closed her eyes against the pain, trying to think.

"General.  If you ask us to charge – will it really make a difference?  Will our sacrifice mean something?"

"We won," she said slowly.  "No one was really sure how.  But Revan's plan worked, and we won."

Wolt looked down, and slowly swallowed.  "We – we will press forward if you ask it, General.  We'll go through the mines.  There will be heavy losses, but we – we trust you, General."

Wolt turned away, to give the order.  "No!"  Ludmilla pulled him back.  "Not this time.  Not again," she snarled.

"General?"

"I'll go alone.  I'll take out the mines.  When I've cleared the path, follow me."

"No!  General, we can't risk you on something like this!"

Ludmilla smiled gently at him.  "I'm a Jedi.  A few explosions aren't going to kill me."

"General…."

"I don't mind telling you, it will hurt like hell, though."  She clapped him on the shoulder.  "I'm gonna need a stiff drink after this."  She walked up to the first mine, and used the Force to activate it.  The explosion set off two others, and shrapnel flew out, and slammed into her.  She wondered what Wolt's ghost would have said if he had known that her orders specifically forbade her from doing this.  She continued making her way down the path, setting off every mine so that her men wouldn't have to suffer while she stood by helplessly and watched.  This pain was only physical.  In a way, it eased the pain – atonement for obeying the foolish orders that set the value of a Jedi's life so far above that of the soldiers.  She set off the last mine, and the Mandalorians decloaked.

The Republic soldiers charged down, cheering their General, who had taken the pain to spare the men under her command.  "I should have done this all those years ago," she said to herself, and sank to her knees in pain – mental, not physical.  Around her, the soldiers fought off the Mandalorians.  They were in position for the final assault, and Revan's plan would succeed.  "Why?  Why did you kill my men, Revan?  Why did you turn to the Dark Side?  Why?"

The battle faded, and she was alone in an empty stone chamber, with one door leading out.  Ludmilla sighed, and forced herself to stand and walk through the next door, starting to dread what she was finding lurking in her subconscious.

"You are to be commended for making it this far, child."

"Kreia?"  It looked like Kreia, but she was wearing black robes, and her white hair was braided and bound with black leather instead of her normal gold clasps.  She also looked slightly younger – not much younger, however.

"You have revisited the dark moments of your past, and now you must face the present."

"Kreia?  Are you are Sith?  Or a Jedi?"

"Does it matter?" the old woman smiled.  "Of course it does.  Such titles allow you to categorize the galaxy, to break it into Dark and Light, to file it away in neat little boxes.  And yet, it does not quite work, does it?  Perhaps, I am neither, and I hold both codes to be incomplete – perhaps I see them for what they truly are, pieces of a whole."  Kreia sighed.  "Know that I am your teacher, child.  Is that not enough?"

"Perhaps I asked the wrong question," said Ludmilla slowly.  "What were you?"

"Ah, child, you grow too wise too quickly," Kreia laughed.  "Tell me, child, what do you wish to hear?  That I believed in the code of the Jedi, but that I felt the call of the Sith?  That perhaps, once, I held the galaxy by the throat and crushed those who challenged me beneath my heels?"  Kreia sighed, and paced impatiently across the room.  "That for every good work I had done, I brought equal harm into being?  That perhaps the greatest of the Sith Lords learned all they knew from me?"  Kreia reached up, and pushed back her hood for the first time since they had met.  "Would it matter now, child?"

Ludmilla stared in shock, for a number of reasons.  She couldn't believe that she'd never acknowledged that Kreia was blind, but she suspected that she had always known it.  Kreia had used Force Sight in preference to her eyes for so long that they had practically atrophied, a process that took decades.  "But – but you commented on Atton's appearance."

Kreia smiled.

"You've been using my sight.  You see what I see."

"A chilling thought, child.  Put it out of your mind," Kreia suggested.  But she was still smiling.

Ludmilla continued to stare at Kreia.  "I've met you before.  Briefly."

"Indeed?" smiled the old woman.  "I do hope we were friends at the time."

"You were with a man.  He introduced himself as your husband."

"So he was, under the common law.  He was, after all, the father of my child.  Even though I knew he would be faithless and weak at the end, I still wanted to live and have my lovely dream life while I could."  Kreia shrugged.  "The dream is over now, and he has paid for his crime.  That part of my life is gone now."

"Was it worth it?" Ludmilla asked softly.

Kreia smiled.  "This is about you, child.  Not me."

"So, were you a Sith?  Were you really Darth Sion's Master?"

"You seem perturbed by the thought."

"I just can't imagine you giving him lessons.  You have nothing in common with someone like that."

Kreia laughed.  "You flatter me, child.  Indeed, to be united solely by hatred – it is a fragile alliance, at best.  Sion is a brute, and Nihlus a greedy idiot.  I offered wisdom, and they met me with ambition.  I could have raised them to the level of great ones like Marka Ragnos or Naga Sadow, but they united against me.  Stripped me of my power."

"How?"

"There are some techniques in the Force against which there is no defense," said Kreia slowly.  "Such an attack would kill all but the most powerful of Force users."  And even though Kreia was blind, she looked directly at Ludmilla.

"They cut you off from the Force," Ludmilla gasped.  "Just like the Council did to me!  But it came back.  How?"

Kreia smiled at her, but didn't answer.

"I hate Consulars, I really do.  Why can't you people ever just answer a question?" Ludmilla grumbled.

"In my own defense," Kreia laughed, "I'm not really here.  I am a reflection of your mind."

Ludmilla looked at her.  "I've never seen you wear that outfit before."

"Oh, but you have," smiled Kreia.  "When I left for my exile.  You remember.  You were fascinated by the braids, were you not?"

"But if you're supposed to be a memory of the past, where's your other hand?"

Kreia started in surprise.  "Your mind is a strange place, child."

"Don't give me that," Ludmilla snapped.  "You pushed back your hood with one hand."

Kreia sighed.  "Your confusion is confusing even your memories.  Perhaps the others can help."

"Others?"

"No more," hissed Atton, suddenly charging into the room.  "No more of your games!  No more of your lies!  I won't let you hurt her!"

"Atton?"  Ludmilla looked at him in confusion, and Atton drew his lightsaber, the brilliant yellow shining brightly in the darkness as he faced Kreia and Ludmilla.

"Stay away from her!  She's a Dark Jedi!  Can't you see?"

Ludmilla just stared.  "Who?  What?  Where did you come from?"

Kreia activated her lightsaber, lushly green with a hint of gold in the center.  Ludmilla had worked for hours to get that color.  "I've had enough of you, fool.  Your snide comments, your insolent contempt – you will cease to undermine my efforts to restore the galaxy for once and for all!"

"What – Atton, stop!  What are you doing?  Both of you, knock it off!"

Bao-Dur walked into the room.  "What's all the commotion?"

"Stay out of this, alien," Kreia hissed.  "This matter rests between Atton and myself."

"You have lightsabers out," Bao-Dur observed.  "You seriously think I'm going to just stand here and watch while Atton gets hacked to bits?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Atton snarled.  "At least you can tell she's evil.  Are you going to shoot her or what?"

"Hey!"  Ludmilla tried to get their attention.  "No shooting, no fighting!  No killing our allies!"

T3 zipped into the room as well, beeping happily until he saw everyone with their weapons out.  He squealed in surprise, then chirped sharply in indignation.

"Not you, too," groaned Ludmilla.  "What is going on?"

"All of you are going to stand together?" sneered Kreia.  "Perhaps you may make a laudable effort.  But you do not realize the true power of the Force."

"Think again," Atton said sharply.  "We've all felt your influence, and it's time for it to end!  No more!"

"Your friends all stand, arrayed against the Darkness," said Kreia slowly.  "And you?  Where do you stand?"

Ludmilla looked at her friends, then at Kreia, slowly replaying their words in her mind, and looked down at the lightsaber in her hand.  "Are they – are they fighting you?  Or – "  She looked at them again, and realized that they still hadn't acknowledged her at all – not by name, anyway.

"Where do you stand, child?" asked Kreia again.  "Am I, too, to be sacrificed for your memories?"

Ludmilla activated her lightsaber.  "No," she said firmly.  "If you really are a Dark Jedi – which I still doubt, to be honest – then you, of all people, deserve redemption."

"And if I am not?" smiled Kreia with unfathomable amusement.

Ludmilla didn't answer.  If her crewmembers weren't uniting against Kreia, then who were they uniting against?  Atton charged, his lightsaber moving faster than thought.  Kreia threw a Force blast that stunned him, and Ludmilla swung, knocking the lightsaber out of his hand with a swift and flawless strike.  Force lightning arced from Kreia's hand, and Atton was flung across the room, screaming in agony.  Bao-Dur shot at Kreia, but Ludmilla blocked it with her lightsaber, sending the blast harmlessly into the wall.  He fired again, and this time Ludmilla bounced his blaster fire right back at him, and he fell to one knee.  T3 tried to stun her, but she shrugged off the shot and used the Force to knock the little droid over.

The ghosts faded away into silence, leaving Ludmilla alone in the room.  She looked around wildly, still holding her lightsaber in a defensive position until she was sure that they were all gone.

"I'm not – I never – " she choked back the words, realizing again that she was alone.  Ludmilla deactivated her lightsaber, and put her hands to her head.  "No.  Never."  There was no soft whispering in her mind, no external temptation.  Just the beating of her own heart, and her own memories.  "Never," she said again fiercely.  "Never!"

She fought the urge to close her eyes, and curl into a small ball.  Ludmilla took a deep breath, centering herself again, and walked into the next room, the center of the tomb.  There was a large sarcophagus in the center of the room, and two figures stood before it, watching her from beneath their deep hoods and long, concealing cloaks.

One was taller and larger than the other, broad-shouldered and imposing, holding a single lightsaber.  The other was small and slight, a lightsaber held loosely in each hand.

"Revan," Ludmilla breathed softly.  "And Malak?"

The smaller form raised a hand, and pulled away the mask, revealing the beautiful face of Revan as Ludmilla remembered her.  Revan's golden curls were barely visible beneath the hood, her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, and there was a sardonic smile on her face.  "Malak?" she laughed.  "Oh, Ludi, you're so ridiculous sometimes.  You think I came back here for him?"

The form behind her reached up, and pushed back the dark hood, revealing Ludmilla as she had never dared to see herself – her eyes dark yellow, the cybernetic implants standing out beneath unnaturally pale skin, her hair whitened and pulled away from her face.

"No."

"Not yet," corrected Revan gently.  "Come, Ludi.  This is foolish.  What do you have to lose?  Being alone and exiled?  Come back to me, Ludi.  Take the place of my fallen student, and return to my side.  I need you," said Revan softly.  "I can't do this without you, Ludi.  You know that."

The image of the Dark Ludmilla faded away, leaving her alone with Revan.  Ludmilla stared at her without speaking.

"Well, Ludi?"  Revan smiled indulgently.  "You can bring your friends, of course.  They'll follow you.  And I can use them."

"What changed, Revan?  It wasn't me.  What changed?"

Revan smiled gently, and paced slowly in front of the sarcophagus, her robes swirling gracefully as she moved.  "Did anything change?  Aren't we where we were always supposed to be?"

"You wanted to be a mother more than anything else in the galaxy.  How did you end up becoming a Dark Lord of the Sith?"

Revan stopped for a moment, and looked at her.  "And you, Ludi?  What did you want more than anything else?  After you lost everything?"

Ludmilla waved the question away.  "Don't interrupt me, I'm trying to think.  I'm trying to understand what you're up to, Revan.  It doesn't take that long to bomb a planet into submission – why did you spend so long on Telos?  Half the battles you fought were unnecessary.  It's not like you to waste effort.  But it did have an effect," she mused to herself.  "It made the active theater of war smaller.  You cut the size of your front, you consolidated – "  She stared at the ghost of Revan that stood before her.  "You were protecting the Republic."

Revan smiled sadly at her, but didn't interrupt.

"You didn't kill nearly as many people as you could have.  You forced them to relocate to Core and Mid-Rim worlds.  You made a galaxy-spanning army out of scattered planetary defense forces.  What were you getting ready to fight, Revan?  And where are you?"

Revan shrugged.  "That, dearest Ludi, is something you'll have to find out for yourself."

"But you had to be on the Dark Side," Ludmilla said softly.  "You couldn't do that as a Jedi.  What defines a Jedi?"

Revan replaced the mask.

"A Jedi's life is sacrifice," said Ludmilla to herself.  "No, that's too much to ask.  It's not possible," she insisted.

"Is it?" asked Revan calmly.  "Why?  Because some things are unforgivable?"

Ludmilla stopped, stared again at Revan.

"Or can a true Jedi forgive any crime, and welcome anyone – no matter how Dark and twisted – back to the light?"

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to lure me to the Dark Side?"

Revan laughed.  "I'm a reflection of your own mind, Ludi.  And as you'll recall, you're not very good at this."  She pointed to a basket at the side of the room.  "What's in that basket?"

Ludmilla looked at Revan in confusion, then walked over to the basket and opened it.  "Ooh!  Sticky buns!"

Revan burst into joyous laughter.  "It was supposed to be your own severed head.  You're really bad at this, Ludi, you really are."

"A head?  Gross."  Ludmilla poked one of the buns, and her fingers came away covered in sweet, sticky syrup.

"I remember the first time the head cook told you that you could eat as much as you liked," Revan smiled.  "We all sat and watched you stuff your face for an hour."

Ludmilla grinned in embarrassment.  "I'd never had enough to eat before.  Slaves don't get regular rations.  I was always starving back then, even before I got my first implants.  My mother used to save whatever food she got while she was working, and would give it all to me at the end of the day."  She smiled at the memory, and popped one of the sweets into her mouth.  "Want one?  These are really good."

"No thank you," said Revan softly.  "I'm not hungry."

"What made you think of that anyway?" asked Ludmilla, as she devoured another bun from the basket.  Imaginary or not, they were delicious.

"What made you?"

Ludmilla frowned.  "Oh, right, reflection of my own mind, and all that.  Unfortunately, my mind is stupid and I don't get it."

"Or you just don't want to," Revan smiled.  "It's all right, you'll figure it out eventually."

"I hate it when you do that," Ludmilla complained.  The basket was now empty.  "So, did I win?  Do I get to leave now?  Or do I still have to fight you or something?"

"No," Revan laughed gently, "you can go.  Find your friends, and continue on your path.  We can finish this discussion later."

"Later?"

"When you see what you're hiding from yourself."

Ludmilla shook her head.  "I'm not going to become a Sith."

Revan faded away into the dark mist, revealing a door in the wall.

"You do not yet understand what you have learned here," said a soft voice from somewhere very far away, and Ludmilla couldn't decide if it was Revan or Kreia speaking.  "That wisdom will come to you, in the future.  But you know your true path.  You have always known it.  Trust in your feelings."

Ludmilla opened the door, and heard the sounds of lightsabers and blasters.  She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she could sense her companions again.  She ran down the hall, and the door behind her closed again before it disappeared into the wall.


	39. Silver-Blue

"They're going to fire again!" shouted Canderous.  "Get ready!"

"We can't take much more of this," said Mical grimly.  "Bao-Dur, can you do anything with the door?"

"It's still stuck," Bao-Dur shook his head.  "Visas?  Anything?"

"It is beyond my ability to move."

"No time!" Canderous waved them back into cover.  "They're charging – what the hell?"

Something – someone – landed in the very center of the assembled Sith forces, and a brilliantly silver-blue lightsaber flashed, shearing the heavy cannon in half before it could fire.  Canderous couldn't hold back a wild cheer as she continued without pausing, cutting down Sith faster than anyone he'd ever seen.

"It's like seeing someone toss a zakkeg into a box of skwirrets," he grinned.

Mical glared at him.  "Please don't compare her to a zakkeg."

Four of the Sith soldiers went flying before a shockwave of massive Force energy that crushed them against the wall beyond, and Canderous laughed.  "Why the hell not?"

Mical shook his head, and ran up to help her, as did Visas and Bao-Dur.  Mira and HK continued shooting, and Canderous staggered back to the small room, nursing his shattered arm.

Canderous grinned, and sank down next to Atton.  He pulled the younger man into his lap, and used his good arm to hold him in place.  Atton stirred slightly, still barely conscious as he was recovering from the Sith poison, and settled his head on the Mandalorian's shoulder.  Canderous chuckled.  "It'll be worth it to see the look on Mical's face."

Canderous rested against the wall, and listened to the sounds of combat.  Atton was still resting on him, very still and quiet.  He grinned at the noise of blaster fire, explosions, the distinctive hum and whine of lightsabers, until it was all over.

Someone raced down the hallway, and Canderous smiled as Ludmilla burst into the room.

"Atton!"

"Here's your toy," he grinned, "don't mind me, I'm a little beat up."

"Oh, Mical will be right here, he can fix your arm.  That looks bad.  What did you do?" she asked curiously, but didn't stop pulling Atton into her arms and cuddling him like a soft toy.

"I got hit by a rock," Canderous explained.  "It kinda hurts."

Atton made a soft noise of surprise, and opened his eyes.  "Ludmilla!"

She smiled joyfully at him, and kissed him.  "Are you okay?"

Atton pulled away from the kiss, buried his face in her shoulder and didn't answer.

Mical was next to enter the room, and looked away from Atton without speaking.  He knelt down and started pulling away the Mandalorian's armor.

Atton tightened his arms around her, but didn't speak or look up.  Ludmilla frowned at Mical, who continued working on Canderous, using the skill that Kreia had taught him to heal the ugly wounds using the Force.

"So, we still have one Sith left to deal with," snapped Mira, but HK leveled his rifle at her before she could raise her weapons.

"Okay, seriously, no shooting allies," snapped Ludmilla, forgetting that the group had no idea why she was so irritated.  "Put that down, now."

Mira reluctantly holstered her weapons, and HK calmly put up his rifle.  "He's still a filthy Sith traitor," she hissed.

"What are you talking about?" asked Visas in confusion.  "Who are you talking about?"

"Atton!"

"Stop right there," said Ludmilla firmly.

"No," said Atton miserably.  "She's right, or at least, I can't prove that she's wrong."  He made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from her, but Ludmilla wouldn't let go.

"Atton, stop being silly.  What is this about?"  He sank back into her arms, and she could feel the tenseness in his body, his heart racing.

Mical finished healing Canderous, and stood slowly.  "I'm sure there's some explanation for all this."

"Explanation?" raged Mira.  "He told the Sith we were coming!  They all knew who he was.  He set us up, and handed us over to them!"  Mira glared at Atton.  "I should have known better than to trust you."

"That's not quite what happened," said Mical mildly.

"Wait, does this have something to do with those stupid transmitters on the Ebon Hawk?"

Atton looked up at her in surprise.  "The what?"

"There are transmitters somewhere on the Hawk.  Bao-Dur and I have been tearing the ship apart trying to find them all."

Canderous laughed.  "I knew you two were up to something."

"They've been there for a while," said Bao-Dur calmly.  "We think we got all the ones inside, but we realized that some had to be on the hull.  Haven't had a chance to search for those yet."

"That's how they knew who we were when we approached Onderon!" said Atton, still staring at her.

"That's right," said Mira reluctantly.  "I remember, we were using one of Vogga's signatures at the time, but that Colonel knew the ship's real name."

"But – who put them there?"  Atton continued to stare at Ludmilla, waiting for her judgment, nervous and scared.

Ludmilla sighed sadly.  "Atris."

"What?" said Bao-Dur, rattled out of his usually impenetrable calm.  "Atris?"

Ludmilla nodded.  "She couldn't go and find the other Council members, they all think she's dead.  So she tricked me into doing it."  She shrugged.  "I would have gone anyway."

Atton hid his face in her shoulder again, and clasped his arms tightly around her, trying to contain his wild rush of emotions, and Ludmilla continued to hold him to her.

"Atris is working with the Sith?" Bao-Dur asked in shock.

"Not exactly, there's some sort of power struggle going on.  We need to get back to the Ebon Hawk, and we need to find all those transmitters before we take off again."  She looked around at her crew.  "Is everyone ready to go?"

"We can't open the door," said Visas.

"The door is held by some sort of Force seal," Mical explained.  "The Dark Jedi opened it when we came in, but we can't get it to move."

"What happened to the Dark Jedi?" asked Ludmilla curiously.

"Atton cut him in half," grinned Canderous.  "It was the most awesome assassination I've ever seen."

Mical looked sourly at the Mandalorian.

"What?  We had front row seats and everything!"

Ludmilla snickered.  "He won't understand, Mandalore.  Come on, let's go take a look at the door."  With her arm still around Atton, she led the way back down the hallway, stepping over the bodies and debris, supporting him as they walked.

"There was a butterfly," Atton whispered so that only she could hear.  "I was going to listen to you, I really was."

"I know," she reassured him, and kissed him quickly on the cheek.  "Sometimes, the Force pushes really hard."  They reached the door, and Ludmilla realized that this was the same kind of seal that she had already seen on the first tomb.  She gave Atton another quick kiss, then set him gently on a rock by the wall so that she could focus on the door, but still see him.

Mical leaned on the wall near Atton, but didn't speak to him.

Ludmilla activated the door, unlocking the seals that were holding it closed.  The door slowly opened, and Mical whipped forward, his lightsaber out as fast as thought, blocking the blaster fire that erupted from the Sith on the outside.  Ludmilla, trusting in her companions, continued raising the door.

Atton watched everyone run up to fight, defending Ludmilla as she concentrated on the door.  He wanted to help, but his brain was still doing strange things.  He stared as a beautiful butterfly with bright purple wings fluttered into the cave and settled on his hand.  "You are welcome to take whatever you find here," he heard the ghostly voice whisper in his head, and he wasn't sure if it was real, or just a memory.  He looked at Ludmilla again, then at the combat outside, seeing not the battle, but the only friends that he had ever known.  Atton slid to his knees in an improvised meditation position, and began to focus.

"Hah!" Canderous shouted in joy.  He had switched from his rifle to a pair of heavy battle axes.  "I love it when he does that!"  The Sith that he was fighting slipped, and Canderous split the Sith's head open.

Mical gritted his teeth, and put an end to the Sith that he was facing with a well-timed blow that landed perfectly.  "You already have two women."

"Nah, I'm just borrowing Mira.  Have to give her back later."  Canderous dodged a Sith duelist, then took advantage of the failed attack to bury his axes in the Sith's back.  "Besides, if you're not interested anymore – "

"I never said any such thing!" snapped Mical.

"Well, you're not acting – "

"We're supposed to be in the middle of a battle, you Mandalorian pervert!  What do you expect me to do?  Just drop what I'm doing and run over to give him a kiss, right in front of everyone?"

"Well, if I was dating someone as sensitive as Atton, yeah.  I would."

"Fine!"  Mical cut down his attacker, and much to Canderous' shock, ran back into the cave.

Ludmilla had finished opening the door, and was about to run into the fray, but stopped when she saw Mical, and watched him curiously.

Atton was deep in his trance, the air around him shining brightly with the manifest energy of the Force, carefully holding the butterfly in his hands.

Mical paused, considering, then carefully knelt down and kissed Atton softly on the lips.  He meant to give him a quick kiss, and then pull away, but failed utterly, instead, leaving a rain of soft kisses all over Atton's lips.  Mical finally pulled away, blushing brightly as he realized that Ludmilla was still watching him.

"I was going to suggest that you stay and guard him, but you're too easily distracted," Ludmilla grinned.

"Yes," said Mical weakly.  "I'll get back to the fight now."  Mical ran back outside.

"You know, I didn't think that would work," grinned Canderous.  "What would happen if I suggest that you start making love to him?"

"Don't push it, Mandalorian."

Atton felt the pull of battle fade, leaving him empty and drained.  He leaned back, almost falling, but felt himself being lifted by a pair of warm, strong arms, and he laid his head comfortably against Ludmilla's breasts with a happy sigh.  He closed his eyes, but not before he saw the little butterfly flutter away.

Ludmilla kissed his lips, then settled him more comfortably in her arms.  "I know, I'm spoiling you," she whispered softly while kissing him again, and felt Atton smile.  "Let's get back to the ship."

"How unfair," whined Mira.  "I have to walk, and the Sith brat gets to snuggle Ludmilla."

Atton stiffened, but suddenly realized that Mira didn't mean it, any more than she meant it when she called Visas horrible names.

"Mical, you carry Atton, and then Mira can snuggle Ludmilla," suggested Canderous.

"What?" squeaked Mira.  "That's not what I meant, you bantha!"

Canderous chuckled.  "I know."

"Jerk," muttered Mira, but she didn't protest when the Mandalorian swung her up in his arms.  She poked her tongue out at Visas, even though she knew she couldn't see her.

Bao-Dur pulled Visas to the other side of the path before she could do anything to Mira.  "I think we're getting close to the ship," he said dryly.  "Why don't you save it until we're there?"

Visas pouted, but didn't do anything else, and the group reached the Ebon Hawk again in safety.

T3 greeted them with wild excitement, and Goto raged at Ludmilla about Atton's behavior.

Ludmilla shook her head, and carried Atton to the room without answering.  She laid him down in the nest of pillows.  "I wonder where Kreia is," she mused, and Atton laughed before hiding under the sheets.  "What?"

"She'll be awake in a little while," he said sweetly, his voice slightly muffled.

"Atton!"

Atton peeked out from underneath the blanket.  "If they could sense her, they would have known where the Ebon Hawk was."  Atton frowned.  "I didn't know about the transmitters, though, so I guess it was totally pointless after all.  Only they never found the ship.  I'm confused."  He pulled the blanket over his head and disappeared again.

"Atton.  Do you have any more of whatever you used on Kreia?"

"Yeah," he said faintly.

"Hand it over.  Now.  All of it."

One slender, elegant hand emerged from beneath the blanket, holding two small vials.

Ludmilla took them away, shaking her head in exasperation, and Atton drew his hand back beneath the blanket.  She looked at the vials curiously.  "So, she was asleep the whole time.  No wonder I couldn't sense her.  Wait."  Ludmilla frowned.  "That's not right, she was… dammit.  I hate my subconscious."

Atton peeked out from underneath the blanket again.  "What?"

"Nothing."  She stared at the vials again, and sighed.  "Go to sleep.  I'm going to find those damn transmitters and make sure there are no more left anywhere on the ship."

"I'm not tired," said Atton petulantly.

"I don't care, you're staying in bed and that's final."

"Oh.  What if Mical shows up?  Can I go play with Mical somewhere?"

"Somewhere?" Ludmilla asked.  "What's wrong with staying here?"

"Nothing," said Atton vaguely.  "I just want to show him something.  If he shows up.  It's not very far."

Ludmilla sighed.  "Yes, you can leave, if Mical goes with you.  Now stop acting like you're ten and get some rest."

Atton reached out his hand and carefully squeezed one of her breasts.  "Honk."

"Atton!"

Atton began to laugh, and Ludmilla giggled as well, before she leaned over, and dove under the covers.  There was some more giggling, and a few shocked gasps, before the soft sound of kisses quieted them both.

"I'll be back soon," Ludmilla promised as she slid out of the bed.

Atton listened to her leave, and smiled softly.  He could still smell her perfume, feel her love on his lips, sense the warmth of her body on the sheets.  He stretched, and settled himself into the space where she had been.  He felt dizzy and strange, but it wasn't as bad as last time.

Atton lay still, and watched the world spin and dance before his eyes.  He realized now that he was seeing the Force, moving between things that were and things that were not.  When he used the Force to control the flow of battle, he had to open himself completely, to let the Force flow through him and use him to connect with those that he was trying to protect.  His fear of the Force – his distrust of all things Jedi – that was what left him so weak afterwards, almost crippling him.  He could do it for just Ludmilla, he trusted her.  He couldn't help but trust her.  But touching everyone else that way – it was a huge risk, and the resultant fear was worse than the nightmare, because this was real.  Atton tossed impatiently, trying not to follow that terrifying line of thought.

"M'adouin?  What are you doing under there?"

Atton sat up at the sound of Mical's voice, completely forgetting that he was covered by the blankets, and ended up in a tangled mess.

Mical laughed gently, and pulled the sheets away, setting him free.  "Are you all right?"  Mical sighed, as he felt Atton shaking slightly.  "You're not, are you?  What's wrong?"

Atton's eyes were unnaturally bright, and he knew he was breathing too fast.  "I'm – I want to show you something.  Can I show you?"  He kicked off the blankets and got out of the bed, graceful as always, perhaps even more so.  "Ludmilla said it was okay to leave."

Mical carefully took one of Atton's hands in his.  "You're cold."

"It's fine," Atton insisted, and tried to pull his hand away, but Mical simply closed his hand over Atton's.

"Show me," said Mical gently.

Atton smiled nervously, and didn't trust himself to talk.  Instead, he led Mical out of the ship, timing his movements perfectly so that they didn't run into anyone.

Mical followed him in silence, never letting go of Atton's hand as they climbed over the wall, Atton jumping lightly, with his usual quick grace, and Mical following him, slowly and deliberately.  Mical started in surprise as Atton led him into the secret garden.  It was perfectly concealed among the rocks, and completely unexpected.  "How beautiful!"  Mical looked around the half-wild garden.  "I can sense something," he murmured.

"But you can't see anything, can you?" said Atton softly.  He tried to pull his hand away again.

"Of course not," laughed the ghost.  "It's too dark in here for shadows, and yet, not dark enough to be dangerous."  The ghost looked at Atton with secret amusement.  "Your friend is very handsome."

Mical blushed.  "I can hear you, I just can't see you."  He looked at Atton, and pulled him into his arms.  "Oh, M'adouin, why are you so scared of me?"

"I'm not," Atton protested.  "I – I'm scared of losing you.  And Ludmilla.  And all the others."

Mical sighed.  "And because you were scared of losing us – me – you tried to drive us away.  M'adouin!  How foolish you are!"  He tilted Atton's head up to his for a kiss, and gently touched his lips.

"You're angry," said Atton, trying to keep himself still.

Mical kissed him again before answering, and Atton threw his arms around Mical's shoulders, pulling him closer, holding on to him desperately.  "M'adouin, how could you?"  He kissed Atton again, holding the younger man captive in his arms.  "I thought – I thought that I had lost you forever.  Of course I'm angry!  Don't ever do that to me again!"

Atton smiled, laughed nervously, but Mical kissed him before he could speak, again and again, leaving Atton breathless in his arms.

"Such wicked little things you do," Mical whispered, and kissed him again.  "I know what you are, Atton, I don't care!  No one does."

"But I'm – "

"No, M'adouin," Mical kissed him again before he could finish, "it doesn't matter.  You're not evil, just – not very good.  I don't know how to explain it properly."

The ghost laughed sweetly.  "Just don't say grey.  I always hated that color.  I prefer purple, like you see at sunset."

Mical laughed.  "Yes.  Sunset.  There is still light inside you, dearest Atton," he whispered, and kissed him again.

"That's a little much, isn't it?" grinned Atton sweetly, trying not to shake with relief.

"Then why are you smiling like that, M'adouin – dearest, sweetest, little Atton?"  Mical laughed, and kissed him again, holding him closer still.

Atton blushed.  "Overkill, Mical."  He laughed with joy, proving the falseness of his words, and pressed himself against Mical, feeling the lines of his strength.

Mical kissed him again, holding him close.  "Of course, M'adouin.  Should I stop?" he whispered, kissing Atton yet again, completely unable to resist the lure of Atton's soft and perfectly curved lips, and gently drew Atton down with him to the soft and inviting bed of grass and wildflowers.

"Maybe," Atton smiled, and lay down on top of Mical, kissing him again and yet again.  Atton smiled, a slightly dark and wicked smile, and straddled Mical's waist, suggestively poised so that only their clothes separated Mical's desire from Atton's body.  "Is that all the apology I get?"

"Of course not," Mical assured him.  "I haven't even started, M'adouin."  Mical undid the buttons on Atton's shirt, started stripping his clothes away.  "But, come to think of it, shouldn't you be apologizing to me?  After all, you did hit me.  Rather hard, too, I might add," Mical smiled.

Atton threw back his head and laughed, then leaned down to kiss him, opening Mical's shirt as he moved, letting Mical pull away his pants.  "I did it to save you," Atton whispered with a smile, "and you were only stunned.  I didn't hurt you."  There was just the hint of a question in his voice, and Mical smiled at him.

"No, you didn't hurt me," Mical whispered, "but you were very cruel."  He held Atton to him, kissing him wildly, as he pulled his robes away.  "Very alluring, but cruel."

Atton smiled down at him, and let Mical's hands slowly guide him back.  "Why are flames so irresistible when you know you're going to get burned?"

"You're less a flame, M'adouin, and more of a dangerous flower," murmured Mical, and Atton laughed in dark amusement, then gasped in pleasure as Mical slowly entered him.  "Perhaps a kitten with very sharp claws?"

"Mical!"

Mical laughed, and held Atton's hips in place as he worked himself deeper into Atton's body, savoring every one of Atton's passionate cries.  Atton braced himself on Mical's arms, trying to hold back the loudest cries, just as Mical was trying his hardest to make Atton scream.  Mical won, as he always did.

Atton threw back his head, screaming as his body shook wildly, and he collapsed onto Mical's chest, and lay there, panting in Mical's arms.  Mical sank back into the soft grass, holding Atton gently, tangled together in warm wetness.

"I can see how you didn't notice me, but how did you not notice the ghosts?" asked Ludmilla.

Both men half-sat up, startled, and stared at Ludmilla, who was grinning widely from her seat on the stone bench.

"Wait – you can see both of them?" asked Atton in surprise.

Mical stared at the ghostly form of a middle-aged Human male, tending towards stoutness, wearing the soft white robes of a Jedi, sitting next to Ludmilla on the bench.

The ghost that Mical could see smiled.  "Some people see things more clearly than others," he suggested.  His voice was deep and warm.

Ludmilla cocked her head at Atton in confusion.  "Why, you can't?"  She looked over at the other end of the bench, and Atton saw the younger ghost, who was clearly sitting in someone's invisible lap, shrug as if to say there was no real explanation.

"At any rate," said the deep voice of the older ghost, "it really is time that we were going."

"Oh, of course," said Ludmilla politely.  "Were we keeping you?"

"In a manner of speaking," said the younger ghost, somewhat slyly.

"Okay, get your clothes back on, and let's go," commanded Ludmilla.

Atton went to her for a kiss first, then gathered his clothes, whereas Mical pulled himself together first, and then kissed her.

"We should have had one of those," whispered the younger ghost.  "It looks like fun!"  The other ghost shushed him, with a soft laugh.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," Ludmilla bowed politely to the ghosts.

"Goodbye," said Atton sweetly, and waved.

Mical bowed politely also, "Farewell!"

The ghosts bowed in return, and disappeared for the final time.  The energy that had been sustaining the garden faded, and the beautiful flowers began to wither and die.

"Oh, how awful!" said Mical, gently touching a violet that was being scorched by the desert heat.

"They didn't really belong here," said Ludmilla softly.  She looked around again, and frowned at a mark on the wall.  She moved to investigate it, gently pushing aside some dying roses, and drew back in shock.

"What is it?" asked Atton curiously.

"Thorn got me," Ludmilla mumbled.  She looked at the graffiti, not sure whether her mind was playing tricks on her again or not.  She suspected that it was, because there was no other way there could have been a pair of beautifully drawn hearts, similar to some of the ones on wall of the Ebon Hawk, one reading "Patience and Carth, Always and Forever," and the other, "Revan and Canderous, Once and Never Again."  And yet, it was something she should have thought to ask.  After all, who else could have given him the Mask of the Mandalore?  "Let's get back to the ship.  There's nothing left here for us."  She put one arm around each of her lovers, and walked away.


	40. Charms and Tokens, pt. 9

Atton walked slowly into Kreia's room.  Ludmilla and Mical were still in the shower, fixing a broken pipe.

"Why, hello, boy," smiled Kreia slowly.  "What brings you here?"

"I – I thought maybe I should apologize," said Atton nervously.  "Or something.  I can never tell with you."

"Apologize?" said Kreia, making a noble effort to appear as if she didn't know what he was talking about.  "Whatever for?  But since you are here, boy, perhaps you could take this to the kitchen for me?"  She handed him a barely touched mug of chocolate.  "It was exquisitely flavored," she smiled, "but I found that I was too – distracted – to enjoy it properly."

Atton stared at the mug in silence.

"I am not angry with you boy, merely amused.  In fact, you did a very good job," she smiled, "and you will continue to do that job by keeping your pretty little mouth shut."

Atton flushed.

"Ah," Kreia laughed, "it is not as pleasant when someone besides your loving companion animal says it?  Very well then."  Kreia stood, and before Atton could move, the door to her room had closed behind him.  Her presence seemed to fill the room, terrifying and powerful beyond all imagining.  "Hear me, fool.  If she has questions about me, they are for me to answer, not you.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Atton quickly.  He didn't trust himself to say anything more.

"Good," said Kreia sharply.  The door opened.  "Now leave me.  I have things to see to."

Atton didn't dare look at her again, and left the room as quickly as he could.  He looked around.  No one was in the main cabin, and he quickly raced down to the galley to clean the mug that Kreia had handed him.  He started cooking, trying to lose himself in the complicated process.  He heard Mira walk down the stairs, but didn't stop or acknowledge her.  He wanted to know what she had to say.

"Hey."

"What?"  He glanced up at her, then back at the pot, moving quickly to keep it from boiling over.

"I still don't trust you."

"I don't care," said Atton, with a calm that he didn't feel.

"I know you," snarled Mira.  "I've seen the bodies you leave behind when you're mad."

"Then don't make me mad," Atton suggested helpfully.

"How can she bear to touch you?"  Mira stared at him.  "Every time I look at you, I see you covered in blood."

Atton smiled.  "Maybe that's why she likes me."  He tested the oil, and decided it was ready, and started frying the little balls of dough.

"She probably thinks she can save you," Mira scoffed.

"Only, by 'save,' you should mean, 'dip in chocolate.'  You are talking about Ludmilla, right?" Atton grinned.

"You listen to me," Mira hissed, and reached out to grab Atton's arm.

Atton twisted out of her grasp, and in the same move, struck her across the face, knocking her into the table.  Mira scrambled to her feet, only to find that Atton was already facing her, a knife in each hand.

"Put those down!  Now!" shouted Ludmilla.  She lifted Mira bodily, and dragged her to the stairs.  "You, out of here, now!"

Atton put down the knives and turned back to his cooking, trying not to shake as he removed the food from the oil.  He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't gone with his first reaction.

"Is anything going to burn if I pull you away for a minute?"  Ludmilla looked at him, her face unreadable.

Atton shook his head, and followed her into the washroom.

"I still haven't made a brig," Ludmilla mused, and smiled gently at Atton.  "Calm down.  I'm not angry with you."

Atton looked at her in surprise.

"I really hate it when you stop talking," she frowned.  "Dammit, I want a cigarette."

"Ew," Atton said quickly.  "They taste awful!  I mean, when you kiss someone who's just had one.  I've never had one.  I don't like Mira," he said softly.  "I can't help it.  I just can't stand her."

"That's fine, but that doesn't give you the right to stab her whenever you feel like it."

Atton considered.  "Are you sure?  What if it's really funny at the time?"

"Atton."

He sighed.  "Fine, so long as she keeps her distance, I promise not to stab her."

"That also applies to punching, kicking, poisoning....  You get the idea."

"I get it," sighed Atton.  "I will not hurt Mira."

"She's on our side, you know.  She just sees things differently than you do."

Atton looked at her carefully.  "You're really not mad at me."

Ludmilla smiled.  "No, I'm not.  Just because I'm disciplining you doesn't mean I'm angry.  If I'm going to be mad at anyone, I would be mad at myself.  I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge, and I should never have let this confrontation happen in the first place.  It's divisive and ultimately, useless."  She sighed.  "I'm going to go talk to Mira now, and see if I can make her understand that."  Ludmilla straightened her shoulders, and started to walk out of the room.

Atton watched her for a moment, then pounced on her, and pulled her into a wild, adoring kiss.  "Oh!  The cakes!"  Atton pulled away and ran back to the galley, Ludmilla's joyous laugh ringing in his ears.

Ludmilla skipped up the stairs, and Atton went back to cooking.

Mical came down the stairs, carrying some tools.  He stopped to kiss Atton on the cheek.  "I can't believe you broke the pipe."

"Me?" Atton protested.  "That was your fault!"

Mical smiled, and walked back to finish repairing the damage.  "What are you making?  It smells delicious."

"Breakfast," Atton grinned.

"For dinner?"

"Why not?"  Atton noted a shadow at the top of the stairs, but whoever it was disappeared when they heard Mical's voice.

"Why indeed.  Are those oatcakes?"

Atton nodded, and brought a slice of fruit drenched in cream and honey over to Mical.  "Here, try this.  Is it too sweet?"  He knew perfectly well that it wasn't, and that Mical's hands were full, which meant that he had to feed the slice to Mical.  "Oops, it dripped.  Let me get that for you."

"Is it really too much to ask that you keep your hands off each other for ten minutes?" Kreia demanded sharply.

Mical and Atton jumped in shock, and pulled away from each other, blushing guiltily.

"What do you want?" Atton demanded.

"Food," said Kreia smugly.  "Most of us can't live on kisses."

"More's the pity," murmured Mical softly, and kissed Atton again.

"And the girl is upstairs getting drunk with the Mandalorian, talking about weapons and killing people.  Is nowhere safe?"  Kreia sighed, and sat down at the table.  "By the heavens, what?"  She touched the side of the table disdainfully.  "Why is this dented?  What have you two been doing?"

"Right, food," Atton rushed over and started setting the table so that Kreia could help herself.

Mical looked curiously at him.

"Are you hungry?" asked Atton innocently.  "Of course you are, just sit down since they're drinking at the table upstairs."  He set down a plate of fruit and cream in front of Mical, then followed it with some fresh-baked bread before Mical could say anything.

"Oh, is the food ready?"  Visas came down the stairs, and sat at the table.  "I'm starving!"  She took a slice of bread and drowned it in honey.

Mical sighed, and started eating, trying to ignore Kreia's smile.

Drawn by the savory odors, the drunk members of the crew staggered downstairs as well.  "What the hell?  Fruit?"  Canderous put an arm around Atton's waist.  "I'm more of a meat eater, boy.  Got anything for me?"

"Get your hands off him!"  Mical stared in shock.  "What do you think you are doing?" he asked sharply as Atton slipped neatly out of the Mandalorian's grasp.

Canderous chuckled.  "I'm drunk, and I'm hungry.  Atton works either way."  He grinned wickedly at the look on Mical's face, and burst into raucous laughter.  "You're so easy to mess with!"  He sat down on the table, and took a bite out of the fruit that Visas was holding.

"Hey, there aren't enough chairs down here," said Mira drunkenly, and sat in Visas' lap.  "Ludmilla, you should give Atton some of that orangey stuff.  Maybe then he won't be so damn mean.  Honey, you have the most comfortable lap ever," said Mira to Visas.  "Oh, look, honey!"  She helped herself to the slice of bread that Visas was trying to eat.

Atton rolled his eyes, and set out the rest of the food.

Ludmilla grinned, and helped Atton, pausing only to take swigs from her mug.  Bao-Dur came slowly down the stairs, and also helped set out plates of food before he sat down at the table.  Ludmilla leaned back against the wall, and pulled Atton to her.

"Damn, I left my mug upstairs," mumbled Canderous.

"How much have you had to drink?" asked Mical curiously.

Canderous laughed.  "More than Mira, less than the alien.  But the jetii has had more than all of us put together."

Ludmilla smiled.  "It's true, I drink a lot.  Ooh, let's play a little game!"  She grinned at Atton.  "Everyone here who has never slept with Revan, raise your hand."

Atton stared at her.  "Wait, does it count if – "

"If you have to ask, then it counts," she said firmly, but still smiling.

Atton sighed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and laid his head on her breasts while he watched the table.

Kreia raised her drink to her lips, and Visas innocently raised her hand, as did Mira and Mical.

"Wait," said Mical, looking around the room.  "Wait, all of you?"

Bao-Dur sighed.  "Does this have a point, General?"  He looked around.  "Hey, wait a second."  He stared at the Mandalorian, who was slowly turning red under everyone's stares.  "How did – when did – "

"I assume that the slightly reformed Revan still counts, right?" Canderous sighed.  "Come on, you don't seriously think I would have said no, do you?"  He looked at Ludmilla.  "I notice your hand isn't up either."

"She needed consoling, and Malak wasn't around."

Atton grinned.  "I can see that.  You're very comforting."

"Thank you."

Canderous looked at Bao-Dur.  "What's your excuse?"

"I was the one who needed consoling."  Bao-Dur looked down at the bottom of his mug, but he wasn't seeing the thick Mandalorian ale.

"And you?" Canderous looked at Atton.

Atton sighed.  "Like most Sith relationships, I didn't really have a choice."

"Oh, so this was when she was still in charge of the Sith?  Where was Malak?"

Atton's face was still and expressionless.  "He was there."

Canderous blinked.  "Let's talk about something else."

"If you like," Atton shrugged, and continued to snuggle Ludmilla.

Mical stood up and gently put his arms around Atton and Ludmilla.

"Oooh, a chair!"  Mira quickly stole Mical's seat with a giggle.

Atton smiled, and let himself rest against Ludmilla and Mical, savoring their warmth and their strength.

Ludmilla gently kissed him, and then Mical, and then Atton again, before she finished her mug of ale.

"I wondered about that.  I seem to remember all the drunk mercenaries moaning about the Mask of the Mandalore being lost forever," said Mira.  "So how did you get it?  From Revan?"

Canderous sighed.  "Revan took the Mask from Mandalore the Ultimate when she killed him on his flagship, and the ship itself fell into the sun.  There we were, watching the most horrible defeat the Mandalorian clans had ever suffered, and our most treasured tradition was destroyed, along with our will to fight.  One by one, she shattered the Mandalorian clans, stripped us of our leaders.  Clan leaders realized that survival meant staying out of notice.  Some wanted to make a new mask, but Revan made it known that it was in her hands, and that anyone who tried to make a new one would suffer the same fate as the last Mandalore.  We were cowed," Canderous sighed.  "Too afraid to move forward, or back.  Revan had us right where she wanted us – broken, scattered, helpless.  She didn't just defeat us in war – she defeated us in peace as well.  We were no longer the greatest warriors that the galaxy had ever seen – we weren't even a threat to her Sith Empire."  Try as he might, he couldn't keep his admiration out of his voice.

"You really like Revan," Mira observed.  "You're weird.  You get mad at me when I hit you, but she crushes your entire precious Mandalorian culture and you like her."

Canderous chuckled.  "You don't know the half of it.  Revan was more Mandalorian than any Mandalorian you've ever met.  She lived for battle, and she was good – more than good – at it.  The only thing wrong with her was that she didn't look like a warrior.  But she was one, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes."

"Was she good looking?" asked Mira curiously.  "I've always wondered, what with the mask and everything.  And there are no pictures of her, or anything."

"She was...  perfect," Canderous said softly.  "A little too perfect, in some ways.  She never really seemed real."  Under the table, he reached out and took Visas' hand, held it in his own.

"So, why did she choose you?" Ludmilla asked.

Canderous grinned.  "I was the leader of Clan Ordo.  Not much of a clan, but it was mine.  I threw out a lot of stupid traditions after that last battle.  It was a painful lesson, but I learned it and made sure we would never forget it.  I encouraged our warriors to work – any work at all, it didn't matter, so long as they got paid."

"What did you need all that money for?" asked Mical.

"Buying our people out of slavery.  Any Mandalorian that fell into Revan's hands either ended up in her army, in the torture chambers, or on the slave market.  I couldn't do anything with the ones that joined the army, but I did save a lot of Mandalorians from the auction block.  That was why keeping slaves was the first thing I tossed out of my camp.  It's kind of hard to tell a slave that serving Mando'ade is a great destiny, when you know that some fat Hutt bought your kal'vod for his harem because you didn't have enough credits, and you'll never see her again."

"Kal'vod?" asked Atton quietly.

"Blade-sister.  Someone who grew up with you, but isn't a blood relation," explained Ludmilla.

"Four hundred lousy credits," said Canderous bitterly.  " I know it really didn't matter – the Hutt would always have outbid me, no matter how much I had.  But – " Canderous shook his head.  "Never mind, she's dead now.  She's free.  Anyway, Revan – the reformed Revan – saw what I was doing, and she liked it.  She told me to keep doing it, and to reunite all the clans.  And she gave me the Mask."

"Where did the sex come in?" asked Mira with a grin.

"You've obviously never met Revan," said Bao-Dur dryly, and Ludmilla laughed.

"So, she picked you because you were going back to the roots of the Mandalorian culture.  And not just because you worship the ground she walks on," Ludmilla smiled.

"Hey, have you seen the ground she walks on?" grinned Canderous.

"Do you have any idea where she went?" asked Ludmilla.

Canderous sighed.  "Not exactly.  She went alone, and gave the rest of us our orders.  She wouldn't say why, but she told me that she needed the clans, united under one banner, and ready to fight.  So she gave me the Mask, and told me to go out and preserve Mando'ade."  He smiled at Ludmilla.  "She also said that I might run into some things from her past on the way.  I always thought she meant her enemies.  I never knew that Revan had friends."

Ludmilla blushed.

"So, what was the reformed Revan like, anyway?" asked Atton.  "She only killed people every other day?"

Canderous laughed.  "I don't know what the real Revan was like, or the Sith Revan.  I only knew her as I traveled with her, and for most of it, I didn't know who she was.  She was just this tiny, crazy, amnesiac chick with a great ass who could beat the shit out of anybody."

"Crazy?"

"Crazy, like she talked to trees and droids like they were real people crazy.  Only, in her case, that wasn't completely crazy, because sometimes, it worked."

Atton sighed.  "I don't think I know the same person."

"No," Canderous agreed, "I don't think you do."

 

It took Atton a moment to realize that he was dreaming.  Or rather, remembering.

"You're very young."  She looked him over again.  She had pale, pale skin.  Her hair was the color of old gold, and it fell in thick waves around her cold yet beautiful face.  Her eyes were like ice, blue as the sky in winter and just as dangerous.  She was beautiful, yes, but it was the beauty of a corpse ready to be laid to rest.  "Very young," she said again.

He smiled shyly, knowing that to be brash here was pointless.  She wanted to be appeased, yet impressed.  She wanted to know what the Incubus could do.  "If I were older, I would know better."

She laughed softly, the way queens do.  No unseemly mirth here.  Just a ruler, showing her pleasure to her minions.  "I have been told that you can seduce anyone."  She looked at him, leaned back in her chair.

He glanced at her from under his eyelashes, not looking directly up at her.  "I don't think I could seduce you," he smiled.  "I'm too afraid of you."

She smiled at his seemingly artless comment, knowing it for flattery, yet unable to resist.  "You're very cute.  Seduce the next man who walks into the room."

He bowed, in acceptance of her command, and her challenge.  "Thank you."

"If you succeed, then I have an assignment for you.  A very special one," she said softly.

The doors open, and her eyes went very wide when she saw the man enter.  Her beautifully rounded breasts heaved, her chest tightened, her eyes narrowed slightly, her nails dug into the wood of her chair.

"Is something wrong?" asked Atton softly.

She shook her head.  "You have a week," she said sharply.  "If you fail, I will use someone else."

He bowed politely, and she waved her hand in dismissal.

He hadn't failed.  He never failed.

Atton tossed and turned, trying to break away from his memories.

"The knives?  They're not for you.  But you're going to wish they were."  He smiled impishly at the whimpering form on the floor.  "Don't worry.  I'll know when you want me to stop."  He tossed the severed tongue on the floor next to the body.  "You won't even need this, I promise.  You want to know what the best part of this is?"  He looked over at the man standing by the door.  "Knowing that you're lying here, wishing that you were anywhere else, watching you pray that the pain will stop.  And knowing that he's standing over there, hating you, and wishing that he could be where you are."

Atton tried again to stop remembering, to stop seeing what he had been.

"In the stories, this is the moment when a heroic Jedi would appear and save the child from death."  The child's mother shook her head helplessly, wordlessly begging him not to do it.  He let go, and the child's scream echoed in their ears for a few short moments.  "Okay, in the stories, this is the moment when the heroic Jedi would appear and avenge the child's death."  He looked around, and sighed.  "Too bad the stories are never true.  Here."  He tossed a credit chit to the woman.  "Trust me, the kid's better off now anyway."  He walked out, knowing that they would give the money to the trapped Jedi.  Knowing that the Jedi would take it, and try to leave the city.  Knowing that his plan, as always, had worked flawlessly.

"No," he moaned softly.  "I didn't mean it, I really didn't."  Atton sat up, suddenly awake.  Mical's hand was in his, and he had wrapped his arms around Ludmilla.  Atton sprang out of bed, choking back a cry of shame.  How dare he touch them?  He didn't deserve this, any of it.  He pulled on his clothes, and left the room.

All the lights on the ship were dimmed, a pseudo-night for the crew, mimicking the nightfall outside.  This was their last night on Korriban.  All the repairs and fixes were complete, and they were ready to leave first thing in the morning.  Atton leaned against the wall outside the room, shaking in terror.  Could he do it?  Could he really do it?

"Hey.  Are you okay?  You look like you're gonna puke."

Atton started in surprise.  "Mira!  Where did you come from?"

She pointed back at the door to the room where Visas and Canderous slept.  "Seriously, are you gonna puke?"

"No, I – " Atton's knees wouldn't hold him up any longer, and he sank to the floor.  "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, you were gonna run away."  Mira crossed her arms and looked down at him.  "She'd just look for you, you know.  So would Mical.  And Kreia would yell at you when they brought you back."

Atton closed his eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" said Mira impatiently.  "I used to be so jealous of you, back when you lived on Nar Shadaa.  You had money, and everything you wanted.  At least, that's what it looked like from the outside.  While I was stuck in a pokey hole with old guy, and starved half the time.  But no matter how hungry I got, I never did anything that got me dirty.  And whenever I got home, the old guy could see it in my eyes, and I could see it in his."

"I hate you so much," said Atton miserably.

"I know.  And now, I know why.  But she likes you.  Just the way you are.  Hell, she loves you, and if you do anything stupid, she would beat herself up about it for the rest of her life.  Is that really what you want?  You really want to hurt her that bad?"

"No!"  Atton shook his head.  "I don't – I don't want to hurt anybody.  Not anymore."

Mira sighed impatiently.  "Then go back to bed, idiot.  Talk to her, or to Mical, or somebody.  Just stop being so stupid."

Atton stared at the floor.  "Are you hungry?  Do you want something to eat?"

"Uh...  if you feel like cooking, sure.  I'd love some more of those fried dough things.  You know what would go great with those?  Chocolate sauce."

Atton looked up at her in surprise.  "Okay."

"What?"  Mira helped him to his feet.

"I'd never thought of putting chocolate on them, that's all."

"Are you nuts?  Everything tastes better with chocolate on it!"

Atton laughed shakily, and went down to the galley, Mira following and making more crazy suggestions of food that would be improved by chocolate.

In the room upstairs, unseen and unheard, Ludmilla sank to the floor, shaking and weak with relief, still unsure of what she would have done if he had really tried to leave.  "Why me?  Why does it always test me?"  She pressed her hands to her eyes, forcing herself to regain control.  "Just once," she murmured softly, trying not to wake Mical, "I'd like the Force to test me with candy."


	41. Key to the Kingdom

Mical walked into the kitchen, where Visas and Mira were laughing and drowning random food in chocolate sauce to see whether the taste was really improved or not.  "Don't you two ever sleep?"  He glanced at Atton, who was carefully removing some kind of pie from the cooking unit.  "Atton, why are you wearing clothes?"  Mical shook his head.  "You know, there was a time in my life where I never needed to ask a question like that."

The women burst into laughter at his observation, and Atton just smiled.

"If you wait a few minutes, I'll make some coffee," Atton offered.

"Ah, that would be wonderful, thank you."  Mical sat down at the table, and helped himself to some fruit from the food laid out on the table.  "Oh, really, bread?  In chocolate sauce?"

"It's not bad," grinned Mira, and Mical just shook his head in disbelief.

"Where's Ludmilla?" asked Atton.  He looked at the stairs, but there was no sign of her.

"She stopped to check on something in the engine room.  I'm sure she'll be down shortly."

Atton set out Mical's coffee, and the pie, then quickly made a cup of tea for Ludmilla and ran upstairs with it.

Mical watched him leave with a smile, and happily drank his coffee.  "Perfect," he murmured softly.  He looked up in surprise a moment later, when Ludmilla came down the stairs.  "Atton just went looking for you.  He was bringing you some tea."

"Didn't see him."  Ludmilla walked over to the keg in the corner, and seemed to be considering something.

"Oh, surely you're not going to have ale this early," said Mical, somewhat worried.  He couldn't tell if she was upset about something, and she was usually so open with her emotions.  All he could sense from her was a quiet stillness.  It was incredibly disturbing.  He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on their connection.

Ludmilla's hand shot out, slammed into the keg, and the entire structure burst apart with a deafening crack.  She pulled off the two rings of Mandalorian iron that had been encircling the keg.  "Sorry for the noise," she said calmly, "I'll clean that up later."  Ludmilla turned and walked back upstairs.

Mical stared after her in surprise.  "She didn't eat anything."

Mira frowned.  "That's totally weird."

"She's trying not to be angry about something," said Visas softly.  "I wonder what it is."

"Or who," muttered Mira.

Ludmilla laid the rings on the workbench and was about to start cutting when she noticed a plate resting gently on the edge of the workbench.  It was a cup of tea, the steam rising slowly, and lying on the saucer next to it was a single cigarette.  Ludmilla stared.  "Oh."  She looked around, and saw Atton leaning against the wall behind her, pretending that he wasn't watching her.  "Oh, Atton!"  She tossed her tools down, and pounced on him, all her anger and unhappiness swept away by his simple gesture.

"You didn't even take it," Atton grinned.

She kissed him again and again, and held him close.  "I don't need it now."  She tightened her arms around him, drinking in his softness and his sweet scent.

"Well, but what if you want it later?"

Ludmilla smiled joyfully, and kissed Atton yet again.  "I don't think I will, Atton."

Atton kissed her lips, her hair, her ears.  "Are you sure?"

"Are you?" she whispered softly.

Atton flushed slightly, as he slowly realized what she was really asking.  "I am!  I'm sure."  He kissed her again, then sighed miserably.  "Now you are mad at me," he said softly.

"Not anymore," she said brightly, and kissed him again.

"Really?" Atton smiled ruefully.  "One nice gesture?  That's all it takes?"

"Well, there is sugar in the tea, right?  So that's actually two nice gestures," Ludmilla giggled.

Atton laughed, trying not to be upset, and Ludmilla squeezed him tightly.  "Hey!"

"Oooh, you squeak!"  Ludmilla squeezed him again.

"I do not squeak!" Atton protested, and Ludmilla laughed again, then tossed him over her shoulder.  "You know, this is a little unfair."  Atton dangled upside down, comfortable and secure in her strength.  "I mean, I can't just drag you away anytime I want to."

Ludmilla chuckled, and drained her mug of tea-flavored sugar syrup.

"I could set a trap though.  Leave a trail of candy to the bedroom.  You know, you really do have a great ass."

"What is all this noise?" said Kreia sharply.  "By the heavens, what are you doing, girl?"

"I have no excuse," grinned Ludmilla.  "Did you want something?"

"Should we not be leaving this planet?  Perhaps we should take off before you begin frolicking?" Kreia suggested.

"She has a point," Atton agreed.  "And, I'm already dressed.  Although, I still don't see why that makes a difference.  If she can fight in her underwear, why can't I fly in my nightclothes?"

They could feel Kreia restraining herself.  "Go fly the ship, fool!"

"Shouldn't you be yelling at her to put me down first?" Atton pointed out.

Ludmilla smiled at Kreia's rage.  "Oh, you're just faking it anyway.  You think this is funny."  She set Atton back on his feet again, then kissed him before he ran off to go pilot the ship.

Kreia pursed her lips together tightly, then stalked off without a word.

Canderous opened the door carefully.  "Is she gone?" he whispered.

Ludmilla laughed quietly.  "Yes, it's safe now."  Ludmilla went back to the workbench, and noted that the cigarette was gone again.  She smiled to herself, and began working on cutting up the rings again.

"I can't believe you were talking back to her," he grinned in admiration.

Atton peeked around the corner.  "You're beautiful, by the way.  Where should I be heading?"

"Dxun," Ludmilla grinned, "we're out of beer."

 

"How did you do that?" Mical asked.

"Do what?" Ludmilla looked up from the section of the engine that she was working on.

"When you broke the keg.  You – you totally destroyed it.  How did you do that?"

"Oh," Ludmilla looked back down at the engine.  "It's called a shatterpoint.  Everything has one.  A point where all the energies of the Force intersect – past, present, future – and a single action can cause the Force to dissipate, with a corresponding effect in the physical world.  Not just on objects.  It could be a moment when you can break up a relationship, a battle that can shape the course of a war."  Ludmilla sighed.  "It's sort of a weakness of mine.  I find the resultant destruction incredibly satisfying, and the action itself is generally neither good nor evil.  The Force just doesn't seem to care whether a keg continues to exist, or whether it gets reduced to a set of bars used to reinforce an engine.  You aren't permanently removing the Force from anything, just setting it free."

"Is that – is that what happened at Malachor V?" asked Mical uncertainly.

Ludmilla glanced up at him, without smiling.  "Hand me that wrench, would you?"  She leaned over the engine again, and went back to her work.

Mical realized that the discussion was over, and walked away to sit and think.  Mical sat down in medbay, and pulled out his datapads, looking up the battles of the past few decades in idle curiosity.  He frowned at the data, and walked back to the main cabin to use the console there.

"Help!  Save me!"  Mira hid behind Mical, and threw her arms around his waist so that she could use him as a shield.  "The Sith witch is trying to kill me again!"

"Mira!"  Mical tried to disentangle himself from Mira's clutches, while simultaneously fending off Visas.  "Will you two stop that!  This instant!  Let me go!"  Somehow, Mical was toppled over, and landed on the floor with a woman in each arm and Atton straddling his chest.  "Atton!"

"What?  I thought it was tackle Mical time," he said innocently.

T3 buzzed up and beeped at Atton.

"What?  Already?"  Atton sighed, leaned over and gave Mical a soft kiss.

"That is so hot!" said Mira.

Atton laughed and ran off to the engine room to find Ludmilla.

"Wait, what?  Atton, get them off me!"

"Get the who off what?  Hey!  Those are mine!"

"Am not," protested Mira.

"But he's cuddly," said Visas sweetly, giggling as Canderous picked her up off the floor and away from Mical.

"You have your own!  Stop trying to steal mine."

"I wasn't – "

"Will you please get off the floor and stop misbehaving for five minutes?  Just five minutes of you keeping your hands to yourself!  Is that really too much to ask?"

Mical turned bright red in embarrassment.  "That is really just too much," he protested.  "I didn't – "

Kreia made an angry noise of disgust, and walked away before Mical could finish his sentence.

Mical hid his face in his hands and groaned silently before he pulled himself to his feet.  Everyone went off to their favorite areas of the ship, leaving him alone with the main console.  Mical tapped his fingers on the screen, thinking.  He went back to entering data, running simulations and reviewing battles.  He frowned slightly, and started searching more seriously as he realized that there was a pattern to be found.

"Apparently," said Kreia dryly, "it is too much to ask."

"I beg your pardon?"  Mical looked up in surprise.

"What are you doing, dog?  Digging up bones that have been carefully buried, to lay them proudly at the feet of your Master?"

Mical stiffened.  "I find that characterization very offensive, and I would prefer that you not use it, Kreia.  I have found something – " he turned back to the screen, and gasped as the computer started deleting all his data.  "What?"

"Do not disturb the bones of the dead, dog.  If you wish to be a good pet, go lick your Master's hand."

Mical turned back, his innate respect for a Jedi Elder warring with his sense of outrage.

"In fact," said Kreia calmly, "why don't you just go do that now?"

There was a loud explosion from the engine room, and he felt a sudden rush of fear from Ludmilla.  Mical completely forgot all about what he had discovered and Kreia's strange rudeness.  "Atton!  Good heavens!"  Mical ran off to help, and Kreia smiled before following slowly, her robes swirling gracefully as always.

 

Mical leaned back in his chair and sighed.  Atton was resting peacefully with Ludmilla, in the bedroom.  He pulled off his bloodstained robes, and put them neatly in a bag to carry down to the laundering unit later.  His datapads were still scattered all over the floor where they had fallen earlier.  His mind refused to replay the image of Atton and Ludmilla covered in blood, shielding each other from the blast.   Mical picked up the first pad, and glanced down at the numbers covering the screen.

"Surely, there are better things you could be doing with your time?" snapped Kriea.

Mical looked up in surprise.

"The boy is whining that he wants another blanket," Kreia explained her presence outside the medbay.  "He also wants a cup of tea and some sort of sweet, but I don't remember what he said."

"He wants a scone, he always has them with his tea," said Mical, wide-eyed with surprise.  "Is he already awake?"

"He is, and as usual, he is being irritating and demanding.  Now hand me a blanket and go get him his tea and cookies, or whatever it is the boy demands."

"Of course!"  Mical sprang to his feet, and pulled down a clean blanket.

"Wait, why am I doing this?" Kreia said suddenly before he could hand her the blanket.  "You bring it to the boy.  And don't forget about his coffee.  Or tea.  Whatever it is."  Kreia swept away, and Mical stared after her.

"Why didn't she just tell me to go check on Atton?" Mical shook his head to himself, and shyly walked to the bedroom.

"Mical!"  Ludmilla smiled in pleasure as he walked into the room.  Atton was resting comfortably in her arms, his head pillowed on her breasts.  Atton still looked pale, and was covered with the only sheet left in the room.  "You brought a blanket!"

Mical smiled wryly, and carefully drew the blanket over Atton and Ludmilla.  "I didn't have much choice in the matter."

"You noticed the blanket?" Atton grinned.  "I noticed that he didn't have his robes on.  Come to bed," Atton suggested sweetly.  "You can help keep me warm."

"Are you cold?" asked Mical worriedly.  He laid a gentle hand on Atton's forehead.  "Let me fetch you some tea."

"And some scones!" said Ludmilla eagerly.  "Or, you be the pillow, and I'll go get them."

Mical laughed.  "You're much more pillow-esque than I am."  He bent down, and kissed Atton, then Ludmilla.  "I'll be right back."

"Probably for the best," Ludmilla grinned, "I'd eat them all before I was halfway up the stairs."

Mical started down to the galley, and paused when he noticed Kreia in medbay.  "Oh, thank you," he said politely as he realized that she was putting things away.

"I dislike disorder," she said calmly.  "What were you doing with all these pads?  Trying to calculate the number of times Atton has kissed you today?"

"Uh, no, I – " Mical thought for a moment.  "I really have no idea what I was doing.  I can't remember," he said vaguely.

Kreia shrugged.  "I'm sure it wasn't important.  Not nearly as important as whatever it is you're doing now.  What are you doing now?"

"Oh, the tea," Mical bustled down the stairs, and didn't see Kreia's smile.

"And the scones," she called after him with a harsh laugh.

 

Mical walked back into the room, carrying a tray of drinks and snacks, and a datapad under his arm.  "Atton, there was a message for you on the communications console.  At least, I think it was for you.  It's just addressed to 'Rand,' no other name."

"Oh!"  Atton reached out and took the datapad from Mical.  "That is for me.  Can I borrow one of your hairs?  I promise to give it back."  Atton grinned and leaned back against Ludmilla again.

"What?"  Mical stared at him in confusion.

"Will you just get in bed already?  Put that tray down."

Mical sighed in confusion.  "I am having the most confusing day I've ever had in my entire life."  He pulled off his shirt, and folded it neatly before laying it on the dresser.

"Ludmilla, can you just drag him into bed or something?"

She grinned.  "I could tackle him, but I can't guarantee that will get him into the bed."

"Go for it."

"You know, this really isn't necessary," Mical started to say, but she moved with the swift grace of a hunting cat, and had him pinned on the floor before he could finish his sentence.  She kissed him hungrily, and Mical buried his hands in her hair, moaning softly.  "Although, I will confess," he whispered between kisses, "it's quite nice."

Atton sipped his tea, and watched Ludmilla and Mical kiss.  "Am I allowed out of bed yet?"

"No," they said together.

"You stay right there," said Mical firmly.

"Well, why does Ludmilla get to get out of bed?" Atton frowned.  "I'm not made of glass, you know."

"All evidence points to the contrary," Mical sighed.  He kissed Ludmilla again, then climbed into the bed and lay down next to Atton.  "If you would just rest quietly instead of fidgeting constantly, you'd heal faster."

Atton set down his tea and snuggled up to Mical.  "So … does sex count as fidgeting?"

"Yes," Mical sighed.  "Just rest, Atton.  We'll still be here."

Ludmilla chuckled.  "Oops."

Mical rolled his eyes, and Atton laughed.

Ludmilla sat down on the edge of the bed, and helped herself to some of the scones.  "I'm still confused about what happened.  I would have expected the valves to be damaged, but that chassis never should have come off like that.  I don't know what happened."

Mical frowned, trying to remember what he had been doing earlier, but the feel of Atton's body against his was too distracting.  "Atton, stop that!  You're supposed to be resting."

Atton smiled, and laid his head on Mical's shoulder.  "I'm resting."

Ludmilla laughed, and pulled Atton's hands back up to Mical's chest.  "Rest."  She leaned over, and kissed Atton again.  "I'm going to go take a look at the engine room again.  This ship needs a serious overhaul."  She pulled Mical's hand, set it over Atton's to keep them in place.  "You two, get some rest.  Or at the very least, stay in bed."

"I can do that," said Atton cheerfully, and it was Mical's turn to laugh in agreement.


	42. The Flood

"You know, for someone who cooks like you do, you're awfully light.  Don't you ever eat your own food?"

Atton grinned, and settled into Ludmilla's arms as they crossed the bridge.  "I can't talk and eat at the same time."

"And obviously, a Corellian would rather talk than do anything else," smiled Ludmilla.

Atton laughed, trying to ignore the rushing water below and the swaying of the bridge.  "That's not true!  But I can't play pazaak and eat at the same time, either."

Ludmilla laughed.  "Here, we're across.  The others will be just ahead."

Atton sprang lightly out of her arms.  "Thank you for indulging me."  He tried not to look at the water behind her.  "The camp won't be like this, right?"

"It's built on higher ground, it should be fine.  The ship will be fine so long as no one opens the doors."  Ludmilla frowned up at the sky.  "That's assuming that the rains aren't exceptional."

"What happens if the rains are exceptional?" Atton put his arms around her, drawing on her strength and watching her watch the sky.

"Then we'll have to move everything into the main building, and hope the rest of the camp doesn't get washed away."  She stroked his back, and let him rest on her for the moment.  "We should get moving.  I don't like the way those clouds look."

They caught up to the rest of the group just as the rain started coming down again.  Atton stayed close to Ludmilla, and watched them struggle with the heavy loads of gear.

"You could help, you know," muttered one of the Mandalorians.

"Help with what?" asked Atton in confusion.

Ludmilla laughed.  "We're fine."

Mical was eagerly discussing something with some of the other Mandalorians, and didn't even seem to notice the rain.

"What are you talking about?" Atton wandered up to him.

"The rapids," grinned Mical.  "The river here would be excellent for some rafting."

Atton stared at him, then reached out and held up the hair on either side of Mical's head.

"Atton, what in the name of the Celestials are you doing?"

"Now you look more like a selkie than a dog.  I think it's all the water."  He let go, and Mical's hair flopped back, slicked down again by the water.  "Are there golden selkies?  I'll have to ask Ludmilla, she'll know."  Atton wandered back to Ludmilla's side, ignoring Mical's confused stare and the giggles from the Mandalorians.

"What are you doing to Mical?" asked Ludmilla.

"He likes water," Atton complained.  "I think he's a selkie."

"Aquars," said Kreia softly.

"What?"  Atton looked at her.

"An aquatic offshoot of Humanity," explained Kreia.  "They were one of the earliest spacefarers, and frequently visited undeveloped worlds searching for planets with enough water for their colonies.  They are the source of many of those ridiculous peri tales about selkies.  You have probably seen some on Coruscant, but their main colony is on Velusia."

Atton frowned at the obnoxiously logical explanation.  "You're ruining my dreams, Kreia."

"I know," she smiled to herself, and continued walking down the trail, sweeping gently past Mical.

Mical shook his head, and went back to planning a new raft and testing the river currents.

The rain stopped just before they reached the camp, and the jungle returned to its normal heat and humidity.  Atton wrung out his clothes and scampered off to the kitchen to start cooking.

"Does he do anything besides cook?" grumbled a Mandalorian.

"He's a really good cook," grinned another.  She set down her load and went to go help in the kitchen.

Ludmilla and the Mandalore went to the main building to go check up on the camp and get updates from Kelborn, pouring water out of their armor as they walked.  Kelborn, Mandalore's second, already had Mira in his lap and a stack of datapads for them to go through.

"Heard anything from Onderon?"

"No, Mandalore.  There have been troubles lately.  General Vaklu has been gaining more support with the Council of Lords."

Canderous grunted.  "Things will be coming to a head soon.  Any more intruders?"

"No," Kelborn grinned.  "I think they've realized this isn't their moon anymore.  The armed forces of Onderon have declared Dxun off-limits."

"Fine by me," Canderous sat down, and started going through the reports.

Ludmilla pulled up maps, and they began working together as smoothly as if they'd been doing this all their lives.

Mira watched in silent amazement.

"What are you staring at?" whispered Kelborn in her ear.

"How does she know everything?  She just got here.  But she knows all the numbers, and where men should be stationed, and how many patrols you have, and everything."

Kelborn laughed.  "She's a General.  That's what they do."

Ludmilla grinned to herself.  "So, Mira, heavy ordnance.  Didn't the camp have a slight shortage last time we were here?"

"Oh, yeah, but we ordered more while we were on Nar Shadaa.  We should be all set, assuming it's been delivered."

Kelborn pulled out the pad with the information.  "Looks like it was.  We should probably double-check.  Don't want to be short."

"I'll do it," Mira offered.  She took the datapad and jumped off his lap.

Canderous watched her leave.  "Are you trying to train her to run an army?"

Ludmilla grinned without answering.

"What is it with you and improving people?" Canderous fumed.  "She's fine just the way she is."

"She has potential to be more.  I'm just encouraging it."

"You just want more Jedi!"

Kelborn raised an eyebrow.  "Wait, she's Force-sensitive too?  Is everyone in your little band an untrained Jedi?"

"No," snapped Canderous.

"Well – " Ludmilla began.

"No, they are not," said Canderous firmly.

"To be honest – "

"I said, NO."

Ludmilla glared at him.  "You know, all your kids with Visas will probably be Jedi."

Canderous glared back at her for a moment, then laughed.  "If they're Jedi like you, I'll be okay with that."

"Wait," said Kelborn slowly, "you mean, you're – "

"NO."

Ludmilla sighed.  "Let's just talk about something else."

 

"No dripping on the kitchen floor," ordered the young Mandalorian woman.  "It's a safety hazard.  You stay out there.  Tess, bring some towels, and take those wet things to the laundry."

Another young woman bustled up, and started collecting clothes from the group of dripping wet adrenaline junkies.

"What did you freaks do?  Fall in the river?"

Mical blushed.  "Once or twice, yes."  He looked over the young woman's head.  "Atton?"

"Yes, Mical?"  Atton continued working, directing the cooking process for the camp without turning around.

"I do hate to bother you while you're so obviously busy, but what have you done with my clothes?"

"Clothes?" said Atton innocently.

"Atton!"

"If I give you back your pelt, you'll swim away in the water and never return."

Mical closed his eyes, and tried to count to ten before speaking.  A Mandalorian handed Mical a pile of clean, dry Jedi robes, and a large towel before he finished.  "Oh, thank you."

Atton snickered, and continued cooking.

"Brat," Mical muttered under his breath, and quickly changed into the dry clothes before he sat down to dry off his hair.  His two companions joined him, and they all gratefully helped themselves to steaming mugs of cider.

Kreia stormed into the room, her robes dripping wet and revealing an unusually shapely figure for her age.  "You."

Mical suddenly wished for Atton's skill at hiding himself, and settled for trying to make himself as small as possible.

"What in the world?" Atton stared at her, then rushed up with a cup of hot chocolate, and quickly waved at some of the others in the kitchen to bring her a towel and some dry clothing.

Kreia glared at Mical without answering, and drank her chocolate in stony silence while she waited for dry clothes.  Visas and one of the Mandalorian women nervously led her away to change, and the other quickly dried off the floor.

"What did you do?" Atton whispered.

"We crashed at a very bad moment," explained Mical.  "Kreia got a little upset."

"She totally wrecked the raft," muttered one of the Mandalorians who had been on the water with Mical.  "And she tried to drown me."

Mical blushed.  "It was an accident, really.  I had no idea she was that close to the riverbank."

Atton stared at Mical.  "Maybe you shouldn't hang out in the room with all the sharp knives today."

"You may be right," Mical murmured, and finished his drink.  "I'm sure we can find something to do around the camp.  Shall we?"

They grabbed some food, and ran out of the room before Kreia returned.

Atton watched Mical leave with a bemused smile, and set out some pastries and more drinks for Kreia and Visas.  More people came in and out, stuffing their faces with the delicious food and drink.  Atton waited impatiently for Ludmilla to be done working.

"Hey."  Ludmilla walked into the kitchen, and looked around, checking the ceiling.

"I made you some cakes," Atton offered her the tray.

"Oh, thank you," she kissed him, and ate one of the tiny cakes.  "These are really, really good," she said sadly.

Kreia looked up from the table.  "Is it that bad, girl?"

"Haven't you heard the thunder?"  Ludmilla absently ate another cake.  "We're going to have to pack up and move to the main hall."

"Well, you can eat these first," suggested Atton.  "Then we won't have to move them."  He smiled at her, and handed her the tray.  "Okay, you heard the General.  Box all that up.  There's no reason to let it go to waste."

The Mandalorians on kitchen duty pulled out the boxes that Atton had prepared earlier, and started packing away the food as he instructed.

Ludmilla watched in surprise, then smiled, and ate the rest of the tray.  "I'm going to go check on the rest of the camp."  Atton stopped her, and gave her a bottle of juice.  "You're so good to me," she whispered joyfully, and gave him another quick kiss on the cheek before she ran off.

Atton grinned, and walked to the door, to watch her go.  He stopped in shock at the sight of the water pouring down from the sky.  The Mandalorian camp was rapidly turning into a pond.  Muddy slush covered the raised footpaths, and the water was rising everywhere else.  Atton shrank back from the touch of water at his feet.

The Mandalorians walked out fearlessly, carrying their loads of food and drinking water to the main hall, set high above the ground and built on the slight slope to the east.  Kreia and Visas were carefully levitating a heavy tank of fuel so that they could keep the generators in the main hall running.

Atton looked around again.  Mical and Bao-Dur were doing something with the shields, or possibly another generator.  It was hard to see through the driving rain.  Atton gritted his teeth, and tried to steel himself to step outside, into the rushing water, so that he wouldn't be left alone here, forgotten and abandoned.  Another crack of thunder ripped through the camp, followed by a spectacular display of lightning, and the rain started coming down even harder and faster than it had before.  Atton found himself curled up in a chair by the oven, shaking, and not sure how he had gotten there, or how long he had been staring at the open door, and the stream of water slowly trickling into the room.

"M'adouin!"

"Atton!"

He looked up in surprise, as both Ludmilla and Mical came running in, but couldn't move or speak.

"There you are!"  Ludmilla pulled him out of the chair, held him close.  "I'm here, Atton," she whispered.  She could barely sense Atton beneath the turmoil of his fear, but knew that he was very close to losing himself entirely.  "Let's go.  We'll be safe."

"Let me," said Mical, gently.  "Close your eyes, M'adouin," Mical commanded softly.  "Sleep."  Atton closed his eyes, obediently trusting, and slumped into Mical's arms.  Mical wrapped Atton in his robes, covering his face so that the water wouldn't wake him.  "I've never seen anyone so afraid," Mical murmured softly.  "It almost makes me frightened."

"He didn't think we would come back," she said, trying to keep her anger out of her voice.  "Who would do that?  Who would do that to a child?"

"I don't know."  Suddenly Mical smiled at her.  "I'm actually quite glad that I don't know anyone like that.  I don't think I would be able to restrain myself if I did.  All for the best, then.  Shall we?"

Ludmilla laughed, then kissed Mical.  "Thank you."  She opened the door, and supported Mical and his precious burden as they fought their way through the rain and the wind to the main hall to join the others.

 

Atton sighed, but didn't open his eyes.  Mical kissed him again, and ran his fingers through Atton's hair.  Atton knew that he was lying on Mical, but couldn't quite tell if they were on a bed or on the floor.

"I know you're awake, M'adouin."

"I hate this world," said Atton wearily.  "It pushes all of my buttons.  Can we leave, and never come back?"

Mical laughed softly, and kissed Atton again.  "Come help me, Ludmilla.  He won't get up."

"You keep kissing him," laughed Ludmilla.  "I wouldn't get up, either."

Atton opened his eyes slowly.  They were in one of the rooms in the main building, lying on a bed made from crates and boxes.  "Where is everyone?"

"Cleaning the camp," said Ludmilla brightly.  She tossed a grape into the air, and caught it in her mouth.  "I got sent to bed and told to stop working for a bit."  Ludmilla was sitting on the floor, watching him, and she was half-naked, as usual.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and still slightly damp.

Atton sighed miserably, and wondered what to say.  Thanking his lovers for saving his sanity didn't seem right.

"Did you know you kiss people in your sleep?" asked Ludmilla conversationally.

Atton glanced at her.  "What?  No, I don't think anyone has ever mentioned that before."

"Must just be us," she grinned.  "Makes for interesting naps."

Atton watched her as she ate more grapes, tossing them into the air in twos and threes before catching them.

"Are you hungry?" asked Mical, gently caressing Atton as he spoke.

"What?  Oh, no, a little thirsty maybe.  Which is weird, for someone who's so scared of water.  But hey, there you go."

Ludmilla handed Mical a bottle, and Mical carefully sat up, still holding Atton in his arms.

Atton considered pointing out that he could move on his own, and decided against it.  "Thanks."  He took a sip of the icy cold juice, then offered it to Mical.  "Want some?"

"Thank you," Mical took a sip, then returned the bottle to Atton, who finished it.  "Are you feeling better, M'adouin?"

Atton swallowed nervously.  "At least I didn't start screaming.  I hate when that happens."

Mical held him, and wished that he could do something to take away the pain in Atton's voice.

"Why didn't you?" asked Ludmilla softly.

Atton looked at her in surprise.  He hadn't been expecting the question, and saw the answer in her eyes.

"Say it," she urged gently.

"I knew you would save me," he said quickly.  "Part of me didn't believe it, though.  Part of me was afraid something would happen to stop you, or that it would be too hard for you, or too dangerous.  Something.  But I knew you would."  Atton looked down at his hands, and was surprised to see that he wasn't shaking.  "I knew you would come back and find me."

Ludmilla smiled, and watched Mical tilt Atton's head up to his for a deep and loving kiss.

Atton kissed him gratefully, then slid away to the floor, so he could take Ludmilla in his arms.  "There are no words for how wonderful you are, you know that, right?"

Ludmilla smiled at him, and kissed his lips while she wrapped him in her warm embrace.  She pulled Atton closer to her, pushed away the light robe that he was wearing.

It was only a matter of seconds for her to strip off what little she had on, and for Atton to move over her, his lean and elegant body pale against her tan, slender against her strength.  They were too familiar with each other for there to be any awkward fumbling.  They fit together smoothly and easily, and in the space of a few breaths, a few kisses, he was inside her, filling her with his passion, filling the room with soft cries of hunger.  She wrapped her legs around him, taking him as deep as she could.  He moved swiftly and carefully, pacing himself to her breathing, driving her wild with his skill, his careful kisses, the sound of his voice whispering her name.

Suddenly he gasped, buried his head in her neck, moving wildly inside her.  No more words, just choked noises of desire wilder than anything she had ever heard from him.  Ludmilla held him close, stretched up a little to see what was happening.  Atton clutched at her, panting, helplessly wanton, and she saw Mical behind him, slowly and carefully entering Atton while he was still inside her.  Ludmilla smiled, and stroked Atton's back carefully, trying to help him calm down, all the while desperately wanting to see him lose control.  Atton screamed, clutching at her hard enough to bruise.  He couldn't move without being overwhelmed by the sensations of penetrating or being penetrated.

Mical braced himself on his arms, leaned down to kiss Atton's shoulder.  "M'adouin," he whispered softly.  "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" Atton cried desperately.  He reached out and put his hand on Mical's, trembling with barely restrained passion.  Ludmilla shifted, one arm securely around Atton, and held out the other to Mical to help him keep his balance.  Mical linked his fingers with hers, let her strength support him.

Mical smiled, and bent down to kiss Atton's shoulder again before he began to move.

Ludmilla gasped at the sensation, and tried not to scream.  She could feel every thrill of Atton's body in reaction to Mical, and there were a lot of them.  She clenched tighter, and Atton screamed in ecstasy, his body shuddering uncontrollably, making Mical gasp in response.  Ludmilla grinned, threw back her head and laughed with joy.

Atton gasped, almost sobbing, and he sank to her breast, still shaking.  Mical held Atton's hips still, and slid his full length into Atton's body one final time.  Atton cried out again, buried his face in Ludmilla's breasts, still shaking, still trembling, with the intensity of the experience.

Mical groaned at the heat, the tightness, the unbelievable sensation of the contractions of Atton's body around him.  The sight of Atton beneath him in Ludmilla's arms.  Mical took a deep breath, and tried to steady himself.  He heard Ludmilla laugh again, and Atton screamed.  It took him a second to realize that she had triggered another one of Atton's mind-blowing orgasms by sliding a finger inside him, next to Mical.  That was his last coherent thought before he passed out.

Ludmilla stepped out of the shower, wrapped a robe around herself, and left the room to go find some food.  The main hall looked deserted, except for Kreia sitting alone at one of the makeshift tables.

"Oh, it's you," said Kreia in greeting.  "The food is in those boxes," she waved to the pile of boxed foodstuffs.

"Where did everybody go?" asked Ludmilla as she dug out a can of juice and a loaf of bread.

"May I remind you that these walls are not soundproofed?"

Ludmilla grinned.  "True."

"It does not take much persuasion to convince a Mandalorian to stop working and go have sex, or fight someone."

"Good point."  She looked around.  "Where's Bao-Dur?"

Kreia sighed.  "Some Mandalorian female wanted him to show her some technical diagrams."

"Oh, don't tell me that worked."

"With all the noise you three were making?  She could have told him that he had nice shoes, and it would have worked."

Ludmilla laughed, and sat down at the table to take the edge off her hunger.

"You eat a lot," Kreia observed.

Ludmilla looked up at her in surprise.  "You just noticed?"

"No," Kreia smiled, "I just felt like mentioning it."  She rose gracefully, and walked away, leaving Ludmilla staring after her in confusion.


	43. Restored Halo

"Well, it's good to know he does something besides cook," said one of the Mandalorians as soon as Atton was out of earshot.

The others at the table laughed quietly, not willing to run any unnecessary risk when it came to making Atton angry.

"In his defense, though, that Jetii is hung like a gualaar."

Mical froze, his cup of coffee halfway to his lips, and started to turn bright red.

"No lie," said the other Mandalorian who had been with him on the rafting adventure.  "You could see it all when we fell in the water.  It's huge."

"Oh, hey, Jetii, good morning," said one of the women, and waved to Mical as he stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me," Mical stammered, and walked away from the makeshift dining hall, trying to ignoring the laughter that followed him.

Bao-Dur looked up at him as he walked into the generator room.  "What happened to you?"

"I was raised among Jedi and civilized people in the Core Worlds.  I am not used to this atmosphere."

Bao-Dur chuckled.  "Throwing yourself into avoidable danger impresses Mandalorians, and they like to talk about people they admire."

"I've noticed." Mical sighed.  He finished his coffee, and helped Bao-Dur replace the rusted power conduit.

"Thanks." He finished his repairs, then wiped off his hands.  He smiled up at Mical.  "I still can't get over how normal you are, except for the part where you think the sun rises and sets on Atton."

"Oh, I'm not that bad, am I?" Mical smiled.  "All right, I suppose I am.  It's just – he's so – Atton.  He needs watching over!"

"And kissing," someone added.

"Yes, and kissing.  Wait, what?" Mical blushed, and turned around.  "Atton!"

Atton smiled, a perfectly innocent smile.  "What?  We got a message from Kavar, finally.  Ludmilla sent me to find you guys and bring you back to the main hall." He started to walk up to Mical, but Bao-Dur grabbed his arm and dragged him away.  "Hey!  Stop that!"

Bao-Dur tossed Atton over his shoulder.  "The General didn't send you to distract Mical, she sent you to get him into the main hall.  Let's go."

Atton dangled comfortably over the Iridonian's shoulder, and waved at Mical.  "Hello!"

"Atton," Mical groaned.  "Why are you – "

"What are you doing, Atton?" asked Bao-Dur suspiciously, but didn't stop walking.

"Nothing," said Atton innocently.  "Mical, could you get that for me?" he asked sweetly.

Bao-Dur thought about looking behind him, but decided against it.  He set Atton down just before they reached the main hall, and handed him over to Mical.  "You deal with it."

Atton burst out laughing, and started pulling his shirt and jacket back on as Mical handed them to him.  "If Bao-Dur wasn't so mean, I could have gotten my pants off, too."  Atton walked away, laughing, into the main hall, and sat down next to Ludmilla.

Ludmilla smiled at him, and looked around to make sure that everyone was here.

"Should I start?" asked Kelborn, and Ludmilla nodded.  "Kavar sent a message during the storm.  Queen Talia wants to meet with you, al'akaan, and offered safe passage to the capital.  But when we got the message this morning, we checked the situation on Onderon.  I don't know how good her offer is anymore."

"What's going on?" Ludmilla asked.

"Well, it seems General Vaklu has seized power and declared the Queen guilty of treason."

"Oh, great," said Ludmilla.  "Just what I needed to spice up my day.  Civil war!"

"The Queen and her supporters are holed up in the Royal Palace," said Canderous.  "It's a heavily fortified building, with really good defenses."

"Still bitter about not taking the Palace last time?"

"Winning through starvation is pathetic," scoffed Canderous.  "But if we couldn't take it, then that gizka Vaklu won't be able to, either."

"Except," said Kreia slowly, "Vaklu is working with a Sith Lord."

"Yes," mused Ludmilla.  "An incredibly incompetent one."

"Not that scarred guy again!"  Atton looked up at her.  "He creeps me out."

"No, Vaklu is teamed up with mask guy.  There's some irony there," Ludmilla grinned, "but we won't get into that."

Canderous pretended to laugh.  "Very funny.  Yeah, it's true Vaklu has some Sith on his side.  Kavar and the Queen moved fast, though, and the loyalists have a good position."

Kelborn shook his head in disagreement.  "She won't make it until nightfall.  They haven't the supplies or the firepower to stand up to Vaklu.  He's been planning this for a long time."

"So, wait, where is the Sith base?" asked Ludmilla.  "Was Vaklu stupid enough to give them a foothold on Onderon?"

"No," said Kreia slowly, "I sense them here, on the moon itself."

"What?" said Kelborn.

"Well, we did pick up some weird transmissions, remember?" said one of the other Mandalorians.

"Yes, they were coming from the east," said Kelborn slowly.

"That's why Vaklu declared Dxun off-limits!  He didn't know about our camp, he wanted to hide the Sith!" exclaimed Canderous.

"Well, well," Ludmilla smiled.  "He left his allies vulnerable, and he has no bolthole."

"What are you planning?" asked Canderous.

"Dual-pronged assault.  Take out the Sith base, and attack his forces on Onderon.  At the same time."

"Dividing our forces?  Isn't that a bit foolhardy?"

Ludmilla laughed.  "We have more than enough to deal with Vaklu, and the Sith Lord."

"Vaklu might suspect an attack by the Republic, or even by some Mandalorians.  But he will not be expecting Jedi," said Kreia, with a slow smile.  "Especially not more than one."

Canderous grunted.

"You know full well how much a single Jedi can alter the flow of battle."  Kreia smiled.  "This is no longer a war of common soldiers.  Standard tactics no longer apply."

"Is it wrong that she makes me nervous when she smiles like that?" one of the Mandalorians whispered.

"Shh!"

"We'll send a small strike team to breach the defenses of the Sith base," said Ludmilla.

"And then we'll teach those Sith that it's our moon," laughed Canderous.  "We might also want to contact the Republic and let them know what's up, but I don't know if they'll listen to us."

"I can do that," said Mical quietly.

Ludmilla grinned.  It always amused her when the Force was so blatant.

"Who will you send to do the infiltration?" asked Kreia.

"I can lead the way," said Kelborn.

"Yeah, but you're not the type for sneaking around.  You need someone fast for that."  Atton grinned.

"You want to do it?" smiled Ludmilla.

"Well, the hacking through beasts and jungle part doesn't sound like my line of work, but stabbing Sith in the back and stealing all their stuff?  Yeah, that's me."

Ludmilla tried not to giggle.  "Sorry, I'm imagining vividly again.  Take pictures."  She looked around.  "Bao-Dur, you go with him.  There might be some technical stuff that needs disabling, or whatnot."

"Er...  can I talk to you for a second?" said Mira suddenly.

"Right now?" growled Kreia.  "Children today."  She shooed the others out of the room so that Mira and Ludmilla could talk in private.

"Wait, she isn't – " Canderous stared.  "Dammit!"

"Of course she is," snapped Kreia.  "She wants to give her 'old guy' a new apprentice to replace the one that he lost."

"Lost?" Canderous looked at her in confusion.

Kreia gestured towards Atton.

"Oh, wait – you mean that Sith that Atton killed?  That was his old apprentice?"  Canderous looked at Atton, who was carefully inspecting his nails.  "Did you know that?"

"Know what?"  Atton stared blankly at him, as if he hadn't been following the conversation at all.

"Right, never mind," Canderous grumbled.

"We're done."  Ludmilla waved them back into the room.

Mira smiled ruefully at Canderous, shrugging her shoulders.  "Sorry," she whispered, "I had to do it!"

"So, who wants to come to the Palace with me?"  Ludmilla grinned.  "Mira wants to attack the Sith base."  She glanced at Atton, who nodded.  Ludmilla smiled gratefully.

"I will go," said Kreia, and then laughed suddenly.  "But there will be no dancing."

"I, uh, I have something to offer you.  But it means that Visas can't come with us."

"I'd rather she didn't go with the strike team," frowned Ludmilla.  "Four is too many."

"She can lead us," suggested one of the Mandalorians.  "When we attack the base, after they take out the defenses."

"That works," said Ludmilla, seeing Visas smile and nod in acceptance.  "Mical, head back to the ship, and get in touch with your contacts in the Republic.  Kelborn, give him a few warriors to help out with the ship.  Atton, Bao-Dur, Mira – follow Kelborn to the Sith base, and keep them occupied there until Visas gets there with Bralor and his men.  We'll make our way to Onderon."  She grinned at Canderous as the group split off to take on their assigned tasks.  "So, Mandalore, how do you plan to get us to Onderon?  Sneak up in the shuttle again?"

"No," said Canderous slowly, "if we do that, they might notice the strike team too early.  Remember those zakkegs you killed for us last time you were here?"

"Yeah, they were keeping you out of some old bunkers.  Why?"  Ludmilla looked at him, and the Mandalore smiled.  "What?"

 

Kelborn stopped to get his bearings and check that they were still on the right path to find the source of the mysterious transmissions, and presumably, the Sith base.

"Akaan is war, right?  So what's al?"

Kelborn stared at Atton.  "Are you trying to teach yourself Mando'a?"

Atton shrugged.  "I had some time on my hands."

"It's from alor," said Kelborn, curious to know just how much he had learned.

"Uh, so… like Mandalore… then it would be 'leader in war' – General.  Right?"

Kelborn laughed.  "You have been learning.  Planning to marry into the clan?"

Atton looked at the jungle and didn't answer.

"Hey, Atton, I was thinking," said Mira eagerly.

"What are you wearing?" Atton demanded as she ran up to him, almost tripping over the long brown robes.

"Well, see, that's what I was thinking!  See, if the Sith just see a bounty hunter and some Corellian and some Iridonian attacking, they'll just carry on as if nothing important is going on.  But if they look out and see three Jedi, they'll totally freak!"

Atton frowned.  She was right, but he couldn't do it.  "That's great, Mira, but I'm not wearing the robes.  We'll just back you up."

"No," grinned Mira, "I have a better idea.  I knew you wouldn't wear 'em, and the General said that Iridonians don't wear robes either for some reason.  Tradition or something about their ears, I forget."  She reached into her pack and pulled out two bundles.  "But you will wear armor like she does, right?"  Mira held them out hopefully to her companions.

"Armor?" said Bao-Dur.  "Where did you find this?"  He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a set of green and white armor, lighter than what Ludmilla wore for battle, made in a similar style, but with no cloak that would throw off his Iridonian sense of balance.

"Nar Shadaa," Mira explained.  "Ludmilla asked to me to check some stall in the square.  When I brought those back, she laughed for like ten minutes straight, but wouldn't explain the joke.  She said it's from the same place as her armor, but I forget the first part.  Shey or something.  That's the armor of an Advisor."

Bao-Dur laughed to himself.  "Okay, I get the joke now."

Atton opened his bundle and stared at the armor in surprise.  "Was this in the same stall?"

"Yeah, it's a little different but she still thought it was funny.  She said that it was the armor of a Shadow, but I have no idea what that means.  The name sure fits, though."

The armor was black, but not Sith black.  It was somehow lighter, with hints of purple and dark brown in the cloth, forming an almost perfect camouflage.  Atton touched the flexible plates carefully, fingered the fabric of the heavy dark cloak.

"Go put 'em on!" grinned Mira.

Bao-Dur shook his head and stepped behind a tree to change.  He laughed to find that the Advisor's armor had just enough pockets to hold all his tools.  With a sigh, he set his rifle and blasters aside, and hung the lightsaber that Ludmilla had given him on his hip before he stepped back onto the path, his old clothes and weapons tucked under his arm.

"Blade and spirits, that is one sexy man," one of the Mandalorians in the escort muttered.

Bao-Dur shook his head, glad that they couldn't tell if he was blushing.  Mira was spinning around Kelborn, excited and happy.  "Do you even know how to use those?" Bao-Dur asked, pointing to the two lightsabers she was carrying.

Mira stopped spinning, and laughed before she straightened herself and said in a prim little schoolgirl voice, "Modern Jar'Kai : An analysis and assessment of the traditional Two Sword Lightsaber form as currently used in the Core Worlds and beyond.  A treatise developed and researched by Jedi Master Zez-Kai Ell and his student, Revan."  She looked at him.  "It was the only book we had in the house when I was growing up."  She held out the bag so that Bao-Dur could put his old clothes away.

"Where's Atton?"

"He's still changing."

"No," said a voice right behind her, "he's done, he's just testing the camouflage abilities of his new armor."

Mira nearly jumped out of her skin.  "Don't do that!"  She whirled around to face Atton.  "You look scary sexy."

Atton laughed.  "Wait, which is it?"  He was dark and elegant, dangerously graceful, and the armor fitted him like a glove.  He pushed back the hood, and put his old clothes away in his own pack, then made the pack disappear beneath his cloak.

"A little of both, I think."  Bao-Dur looked him over, and decided to stop before he got distracted.  "Don't let the Mandalore see you in that."

Atton laughed again, and Mira spun around happily.  "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to get Kreia's swirl down.  Visas can do it, but I can't get it right."

"Ah."  Atton watched her twirl around.  "You're not using your hips right."

"What?"  Mira stared at him.

"Here," Atton stepped forward, his dark cloak swirling elegantly as he moved.  "Don't hit me, I'm just trying to show you something."  He put his hands on her hips, and faced her, as if they were going to dance.  "Like this."  He took a few steps with her, and showed Mira how to set her natural grace to the unfamiliar weight of the Jedi robes.  "There, now you've got it," he smiled.

Mira stepped away from his hands, moving her whole body with the robes she wore, and they swirled gracefully around her.  "Oh!"  She smiled excitedly.  "This is awesome!"  She paused for a moment, and let her robes settle around her.  "So, wait, Kreia can't be that old.  Or do Jedi joints never get stiff?"

Atton shrugged.  "You got me.  Maybe she drains the life out of little Jedi to maintain her youth," he said wickedly.

"Ew!" said Mira, and scampered over to Kelborn.

The Mandalorian shook his head.  "Let's get going.  I'm looking forward to seeing the Sith mess their pants when they see you three coming."

"Two," smiled Atton.  "If they see me coming, they won't have time to mess their pants."

 

"You are connected to the Admiral's flagship, Councilor," said Goto.

Mical almost leapt out of his skin, but had the presence of mind not to correct the obnoxious Exchange overseer while they were still connected.  "Thank you," he said with a calm that he didn't feel.  "My name is Mical.  Is Admiral Onasi available?"

The technician who had answered the connection request stared in awe for a moment before responding.  She was a young Selkath, half-suspicious and half-awed by the serene man in the hologram.  She stood and bowed respectfully, then quickly verified Mical's Republic contact codes.

Mical tried not to blush under her scrutiny, fully aware that with the soft brown robes, the lightsaber, and his strictly controlled calm demeanor, he looked exactly like what everyone expected a Jedi to look like.

"Of course, sir, please wait a moment."

The young Selkath disappeared, and Mical tried not to grit his teeth.  "I will get you for this, Goto," he muttered without moving his lips and too quietly to picked up by the transmitting device.

"I'm sure I don't understand your concern, Councilor," said Goto, struggling to hold back a laugh, as was the HK unit.

"I know you put him up to this," Mical whispered, and then the familiar form of Admiral Onasi walked into the communications room of his flagship.

"Admiral Onasi here – oh, it's you, Mical.  Finally," the Admiral grinned.  "Haven't heard from you in for a while.  You're in the Onderon system – can you tell me what is going on there?  We're totally in the dark, here."

"Yes, of course," said Mical, slightly flustered by the fact that the Admiral wasn't questioning why he had been announced as a Councilor and was wearing Jedi robes.  Admiral Onasi picked up a datapad, and got ready to take notes, and Mical gave in with only a slight shake of his head, quickly and efficiently outlining the situation on Dxun and Onderon.  He supposed there was someone else in the room, and that the Admiral didn't want to question him with an audience present.  Admiral Onasi asked intelligent and pertinent questions about the Mandalorians, about the Exile, about the Sith.  Mical answered quickly and fully, knowing that Ludmilla wouldn't want him to hold anything back.

"And this Sith Lord – Darth Nihlus – is he in the sector, too?  Or did he just send his underlings to work with Vaklu?"

Mical shook his head.  "Nihlus is not here.  He may be approaching, but I do not sense him.  I suspect," Mical mused, "that he wants Vaklu to finish subjugating Onderon before he approaches.  Vaklu wants to rule Onderon, and I doubt that he would work with Nihlus if he realized what the Sith Lord really wants from his planet."

"True," sighed the Admiral, "but we're the last people that Vaklu will believe, so we can't tell him that."  Carth grinned.  "I guess we'll have to leave it to the Exile to beat it into him."

Mical smiled gently, "That, she can certainly do."

"Well, you'd better get back to work, Mical.  We'll keep an eye out for the Sith Lords, and a fleet will be ready to move wherever you need us," Carth promised.  "May the Force be with you.  Onasi out."

Mical only had time to nod before the Admiral closed the connection.  "He treated me like a proper Councilor," said Mical in confusion.  "He knows perfectly well I'm not – "

"Not what, Jetii?" asked one of the Mandalorians as he walked out of the bridge, heading for the galley.

"Nothing," said Mical quickly, and sat down at the main console.  There hadn't been anyone else in the room, he knew that now.  "It's almost as if he was expecting that to happen."

"Perhaps you misheard?  I announced you as a Jedi Consular – is that not the correct classification for your particular specialization?" laughed Goto.

"Oh, be silent, you malignant ball of bolts!" snapped Mical, flushing.  "I know full well what you did, and I'll never live it down."

"Supposition: Unless it comes true," HK pointed out.

Mical sighed.  "That wouldn't happen for years, we already have a Council, and Master Sîvoš – well, she probably won't ever serve on the Council, but they would offer her a seat before me."

"Clarification: Assuming they are around to offer it," HK helpfully pointed out.

Mical glared at the sinister red droid.  "Don't even think of trying to harm the Council.  They may be shorthanded, but they're still powerful Jedi."

"Agreement: Of course not.  Statement: I will happy to serve the duly elected members of the Jedi High Council."

Mical glanced at the droid.  "Only Jedi can elect – oh.  Will you two stop your political maneuvering?  I am not going to – " Mical stopped himself, and considered, counting his companions.  "Oh, dear."  There weren't enough Jedi left in the galaxy for him not to become a Councilor.

"Councilor, if you have a moment, I would like to update you on the Dantooine repopulation project," said Goto dryly.

Mical looked at Goto without speaking, and the droid started displaying numbers and maps on the console.  He sighed to himself, beginning to understand why Ludmilla sometimes complained about the Force pushing a little too hard.  Mical shook his head quickly, then resolutely set to work.


End file.
